Ty Cobb Salad and the Passing of Greatness

Lisa and I often go to Eveready Diner, a nice place offering plenty of tasty options.  Indeed, it is a classic diner, that has been featured on TV, and has a few locations, including Brewster and Hyde Park.

The other night, in need of some "comfort food", the two of us visited the one just up the road from President Franklin D. Roosevelt's home on US 9.  I had already made up my mind (my two normals are the Cheesy Hash and the French Dip) and, tonight, I said "Oui."  For some reason, I had a suspicion of what Lisa would order.  I spied it, and awaited her response.

The (Ty) Cobb salad.

She said she had never had one, so it was a little spooky that I was sure she would choose that.  Nonetheless, I was further ready when she responded, "Cobb salad."

"The Ty Cobb Salad", I responded.

"Yes."

"Named after a baseball player."

"Really?"

Well, not really.  The Eveready version put "Ty" in front of it, perhaps for charm or trademark, or whatever.  The true Cobb salad was created at the Hollywood Brown Derby and was named in honor of owner Robert Howard Cobb.  At least, that's one version.

Anyway, with Lisa choosing the Ty Cobb, I went into full geek mode.  Tyrus Raymond Cobb.  The Georgia Peach.  Second most career hits.  Originally thought to have 4190 career hits, but was later corrected to 4191 (after Pete Rose had broken the record).  Some think he's in the top two players ever.  He and Ruth.  Others put Mays in.

Of course, I choose George Herman (Yes, Lisa knows that is Babe Ruth) every time.

Cobb was a complex man.  Thought of as nasty.  That is without argument, given his theatrics on the field of fighting with fans and umpires.  Perhaps he was nasty off the field, as he was considered racist.  He had a lot of character flaws, but there is no debating his talent.

He had no regard for home runs, and ascribed to the "dead ball" era of play, where doubles and triples were the way to go.  Stolen bases, running hard - spikes high.  He would do anything to play.

Yes, that was Ty Cobb.  As a player, as great as they came.  As a business man, he was extremely astute, smart enough to invest in Coca Cola before anybody knew what it was.  Also invested in General Motors.  As a man, he was flawed, but was also known for paying the medical bills of old teammates.

Before we leave this, allow me to pay my respects to both Earl Weaver, who dazzled as a manager and routinely beat the Yankees, and Stan Musial, also in that conversation for greatest players ever.  I can't quite get Musial into the top five, with Ruth, Cobb, Mays, Aaron and Gehrig already there (plus I can't forget pitchers like Johnson and Mathewson) but I do think he's right there.  As people go, nobody was better than Stan "The Man."

Back to Weaver, he too is among the best ever.  I don't know if he tops John McGraw or Casey Stengel or Joe McCarthy but he's right there along with Bobby Cox.

I'm saddened by their passing.  True greatness has been lost.

Politics Make Strange Friends

Boy, do I regret this.

For some reason, I felt a duty to watch President Obama take his unofficial second oath-of-office.  (If you don't know, by law, he took the real Oath of Office yesterday.)

To that end, I posted the following:   

I feel a responsibility to watch the POTUS get sworn in.  Congrats.  Now go save this great country.  Find people jobs.  Keep us safe.  Etc.

A friend followed-up with a perfect comment, saying that we would prefer to not see the country dip any lower.  That set off a near political fireball of accusations and so-on.  It seems to have been quickly squashed, by silence and a retort from a certain blogger/broadcaster.

I suggest the conversation stops.  Here.  Now.

And, no, I don't regret watching.  Or posting.

On this Martin Luther King Day, our political system put the current President back in office.  There are reasons for that, and they do not matter.  We are here, at this time, to celebrate the swearing-in, or simply ignore it.

I was prepared to do the former, but chose the latter.  I only wish I had skipped it only because of the presence of Senator Chuck Schumer, chief media scoundrel of the United States.  I've railed against him before, and will not go there now.

Look, if you're new, let me say it again.  I am not a party guy.  I am an American.  I am an independent.  I have not - and will not - vote on a party line.  But that is why we have the right to a vote: so that we can vote however the heck we wish.  If we wish to write in "Derek Jeter", we can.  If we choose to abstain from voting, well, that's your right also.  From there, it's all opinions.  It's my opinion that party lines are irresponsible, but I also feel the same way about not voting.  Then again, not voting can often send a message as well, like empty seats at a hockey game (that's a little levity, people).

On this day, it's not about President George W. Bush.  It's not about President George Washington.  It's about all of them, leading up to Barack Obama, whom we all hope finds the answers that we need to get jobs, lower gas prices, bring home our men and women from war, and help usher in prosperity.

THAT'S what it's about, people.  It's not much more difficult than that.

It's back to sports for me.  The Press Box is on at 7:00 tonight.

Hockey is Back Indeed

One thing is for sure: Rangers fans still hate the Flyers.  But they're on my TV as I write this.

Like a good lemming, I've got the NHL on here in the Man Cave of Mahopac.  NBC is giving us the Penguins/Flyers game, and the guys from the 'Burgh have scored twice early on to take a 2-0 lead.

Doc Emrick is doing the play-by-play.  He carries Pierre McGuire along with him.

If you don't think Doc Emrick is among the best in the business (certainly the best hockey play-by-play voice), then I feel for you.  He's the best announcer not named "Scully."  I have mammoth respect for Al Michaels and Joe Buck and Jim Nantz, and on and on, but you're missing the boat if you don't include Doc in that conversation.

Or you just definitively hate hockey.  And to that, I say, shame on you.

I don't need to watch the game.  I'm working.  Cleaning.  Doing stuff.  Doc is keeping the action flowing along with word play that only Scully surpasses.

That's all.

Sean's First Band Concert

This one time, at band camp...

Let's just get the joke out of the way, OK.?

Charlie Parker.  John Coltrane.  Gerry Mulligan.  Stan Getz.  Paul Desmond.  Clarence Clemons.  Johnny Colla (from Huey Lewis and the News - didn't think I'd forget them, did you?).

And Sean Adams.

Great saxophone players all.

They all had to start out with rough versions of things like "Jingle Bells."

I had a good seat for Sean's debut Thursday night at John Jay High School.

But, when it came time for Sean to start his legendary ascent to playing the solo on "Born to Run" or "The Heart of Rock and Roll", he was a blur.

I promise, he's on the stage, basically straight behind his teacher...

No, seriously...

And so they played, finishing up their set with "Jingle Bells."

And then he became blurry again.

Sigh...oh well, at least he met the paparazzi afterwards.

 "Yes, Sean, that's right, over here!  Show me love!"

Anyway, of course I'm proud.  Happy to see him so happy.

By the way, I get it.  You've got multiple kids and one of yours is in the show.  So the whole brood comes.  Got it.  But...any chance you can keep the others under control?  One of them has a cough - a wheezing hack - and isn't covering his mouth while he's bouncing in his seat.  Now, where I'm from, my arse would have been planted.  Then again, I would only get a look.  That's all it took.  But, no, you basically ignore your little darling.

Ponderous.

DeDe Murcer Moffett on The Press Box

DeDe at Yankee Stadium.

Let's flash back to December 17 for just a moment.  If you recall, despite getting close to Christmas, it was not a particularly happy time in the northeast (or the US, for that matter).  The world got to know a place called Sandy Hook Elementary School just three days earlier.  By the 17th, we knew we would do "The Press Box."  We just had to figure out how.

To help us, we had Dave Rothenberg on from ESPN New York (98.7 FM).  Dave was nice enough to stay with us for an hour, and had a lot of laughs (some of it at my own expense).

Of course, we would play holiday tunes throughout the show, and that gave me an idea.

My friend DeDe Murcer Moffett had just begun making some Christmas music available online.  I had often wanted to have DeDe on the show, as she has become someone whom I enjoyed talking sports with (especially during the baseball season).  Her tweets and Facebook statuses encourage people to "Snap Out of It!"  DeDe is an inspirational and motivational speaker, as well as a singer.  More so, she is a survivor, having conquered alcoholism.

When I saw that she had released the holiday music, I felt she was a perfect fit for the show.  Now...would she say yes?

She did not hesitate.  We welcomed her in our second hour, and she charmed all of us.  Ryan DeMaria, Chris Kaelin and Max Barefoot listened along as Chris Erway and I spoke with DeDe.  We talked about her music, DeDe's one-woman show, her uncle Bobby, our "small world" friend Maureen Brogan Pruner (who grew up a few houses away from me), Newtown and more.  The total time is 17 minutes.


I promised I would put the interview online, but it took a while to get the audio.  Better late than never.

Am I Trippin' Son?

Thanks, Harold.


Instagram dat joint!

You Will Get NOTHING and Like It!

The doors are closed for Clemens, Bonds, Piazza, etc.  They're all allowed in if they buy a ticket, just like Sean Adams.

The Hall of Fame votes are in.

Only those voted in via the Veteran's Committee will be honored in Cooperstown this summer with plaques.  Tom Cheek will receive the Ford Frick Award (posthumously).  Paul Hagen will receive the Spink Award.

And that, friends, is it.  Hagen is the only honoree still alive.  Jacob Ruppert, Hank O'Day, and Deacon White are the newest Hall of Famers - and all were dead before the end of 1939.

The full story, including the total number of votes, is here.

Want to see who voted for whom?  Look here.

Like I said, either vote for them all, or don't.  The writers said "nobody."  For Mike Piazza, Curt Schilling, and Craig Biggio, these number have to be alarming.  Piazza, whom I thought was a shoo-in, fell nearly 100 votes shy.

Wow.

Will they all get in next year?  Possibly.  The writers might have also been saying that there is still a sanctity to the notion of a "first ballot hall of famer."  Or they're suspicious of everyone.  Or the numbers simply weren't impressive, which seems a touch disappointing for Biggio, a member of the 3000 hit club.

So that's that.

It's going to be awfully quiet in Cooperstown this summer.

PS, Remember that bit I wrote (and talked about on "The Press Box") about character.  Yeah...that.  They might all get in eventually, but today is not that day.

The Hall of Sham

Getty Images

I tried to to explain my Hall of Fame stance on last night's "Press Box."  Somehwere, it got off track.  I take responsibility for that, and my reaction was, well, asinine.  I basically was so fed up with the whole thing - the show, not being heard, the crappy equipment - that I threw a hissy fit.  I own it.

I realized later on that my explanation and rationale were too broad; too abstract.  I should have handled it better.  So I'll learn from it and move on.

But my point remains true.  If I had a vote for the National Baseball Hall of Fame, which I don't, I would vote for Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens.  My reasoning is that, since we've never seen all of the names on the infamous "lists" (and there are things about the Mitchell Report that still seem shaky), and there are a lot of guys who will go in under suspicion, then I can not keep everybody out.

Furthermore, we all cheered for these guys (I'm using "we" colloquially...I didn't cheer for Bonds or McGwire but I had different reasons).

Unrelated, but still worth discussing, is that there has long been a character clause; part of the rationale of letting players in.  This is sort of what I was trying to get at last night.  No doubt there are some guys who made it in despite their reputations (Ty Cobb immediately comes to mind), but their talent overrides that.  It's not the Hall of Boy Scouts, after all.  But still, there are guys that, because of their borderline numbers, get kept out by their borderline personalities and less-than-stellar relationship with the writers (who are, of course, the voters).

We have racists in the Hall.  Womanizers.  Drug addicts.  Drunks.  Pill poppers (especially amphetamines).  Cheaters of a lesser type that we consider them "charming."

Here's a guy for you: played 12 years.  Hit 381 home runs, including one season with 50, and and two more over 45.  For you stat guys, his OPS was 1.000 four times.  Never won an MVP (I wonder why), but came in second once, third twice, and seventh once, and eighth once.  Played in two World Series, but never a champion.  He compares favorably to Miguel Cabrera (on his way to the Hall of Fame), Ralph Kiner, and Hank Greenberg (both Hall of Famers).  But...there are a bunch of stigmas there.  Suspected of PED's (but never confirmed).  Brutal with reporters and fans.  Yet, you'd think maybe you could make a Hall of Fame case for him, given the other information.

Say hello to Albert Belle.  I'm not saying he's Hall of Fame-worthy, but you'd think perhaps you could talk about him.  But nobody does.  He got no more than 3.5% in his two tries on the ballot.  The detractor will tell you he didn't play long enough.  But his character was such that it would never curry favor with writers.  I'll tell you that, for a stretch, the guy was dominant.  At that point, I don't care about numbers.  Did the guy dominate?  Did he put fear in you as an opposing fan?  Then that's enough for me to at least entertain him.


Belle wasn't, oh, say Kirby Puckett.  Everyone loved Kirby.  How could you not?  Nobody knew about his issues off the field (and don't tell me they don't count for something, as I've just shown you).  But Kirby, who Baseball-Reference says compares favorably to one Hall of Famer (Kiki Cuyler), but compares more so to one Mr. Donald Arthur Mattingly of Evanville, Indiana, was a first-ballot Hall of Famer, very largely due to his larger-than-life smile and tugboat playing style.

Like I said, everybody loved Kirby.  Most still do.  Heck the Metrodome in Minneapolis (the former home of the Twins) is still next to Kirby Puckett Place.  I loved watching Kirby play ("And we'll see you...TOMORROW NIGHT!" - Jack Buck).

Don't tell me character doesn't play into voting.

Now, back to Clemens and Bonds.  I had a personal experience with the Rocket.  For the brief - very brief - stretch that I was around him, I liked him.  I liked the way he handled things.  And, come on, he reeked of old-time baseball as a player.  I loved watching him pitch with the Red Sox (and remember, I'm not exactly a fan of the Hub team).  Other reporters had bad experiences with him.  He certainly didn't handle himself well after the PED charges came out.  Bonds, on the other hand, was a miserable guy who teammates generally didn't like either.  But I have no personal experience beyond that, other than seeing him play in The Bronx once.  And you know what?  It was a thrill to see him in person.  Loved it.

They dominated the game.  Whether you liked them or not is irrelevant.

Every era had their issues.  This, sadly, was the Steroid Era.  Deal with it and move on.

Older Hall of Famers will tell you that they will not come to Cooperstown if these guys get in.  They're somewhat hypocritical.  There is a lot of info that suggests that players were using one form of "help" or another dating back to the days of Cobb.  Does that excuse the steroid guys?  Nope, but as I look at the ballot, if I'm going to vote for Mike Piazza (lots of whispers about PED's), for instance, than I have to vote for Bonds and Clemens.  Or I have to vote for none of them.

I'm not interested in a witch hunt.  I'm interested in greatness.  At the time that Clemens and Bonds (and a lot of others) were doing their thing, we were blind to what was going on.  Even though we all knew what Mark McGwire had in his locker was bad, we all smiled and said, hey great!  Chicks dig the long ball.

We knew they were Hall of Famers before any PED talk came up.  Others (Sammy Sosa, for instance) became HOF-caliber players due to PED's.  Big difference.

We lived by the sword.  We died by the sword.  Now, we've got to deal with the sword.  If they don't get in now, they will eventually.  Bet on it (sorry, that's an unfortunate reference, and I'll stay away from the Pete Rose/Shoeless Joe Jackson debate for tonight).  I used to think the "first ballot Hall of Famer" was a special honor.  It doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

There are plenty of opinions out there.  Here's Jon Heyman, who is going a totally different way with his ballot.  Ken Rosenthal says nobody might get in.  Peter Abraham had his say.  His might be the best that I've read.  Wallace Matthews and I don't agree. That's fine, and he based a lot of his feelings on the very thing I was trying to explain last night:

...none of those gentlemen can get past rule No. 5, which reads as follows: "Voting shall be based on the player's record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played."

Read that closely.  That's the character thing.  Thanks, Wally.  But his "cheaters don't belong" thing is specious because we have the oh-so-charming Gaylord Perry, who cheated as a pitcher for the bulk of his career.  It's OK for him to throw illegal pitches (spitballs, grease balls, etc)?  The dearly departed Bobby Murcer once said about Mr. Perry, "If the league president or commissioner had any guts, they'd ban the pitch (that Perry threw)."  But we'll just turn a blind eye to that, I guess.

To add to Matthews' hypocrisy, he has suspicions about Mike Piazza, but voted for him anyway.  Ummmm...hello?  He just made my point.  Cherry picking here is simply wrong.  Either vote for them all - or don't.

There are other articles out there.  So many worth reading.  There are voters who are turning in blanks.  Voters who are giving up their votes.  And on and on.

It's a deeply complex issue.  No doubt about that.

The NHL Is Back...Yay?

This man giveth.  This man taketh.

So hockey is coming back to the NHL.  I'm still conflicted over this piece of information.

See, the NHL had things looking pretty good.  A Stanley Cup in a city where the fan base (and the overall sports scene) is lukewarm and fickle at best (LA).  A Cup frontrunner in a City with a rabid fan base with many fake corporate fans in their building (New York).  The Winter Classic was set to be a celebration of hockey in "Hockeytown" (events in downtown Detroit, and the the actual Classic was to be played in Ann Arbor).  Momentum was building for a pretty good 2012-2013 season.

Then came greed.

To me, when there is a work stoppage, there's plenty of blame to go around.  Gary Bettman and the NHL owners started things.  They locked the doors.  They insisted multiple teams are in the red.  They put the concessionaires, front office people, parking attendants, ticket takers, broadcasters, and others out...of...work.  These people, generally, do not have million dollar salaries to lean back on.

But, on the other side, sat our old friend Donald Fehr.  With each offer the NHL put out, Mr. Destroy Sports rejected it.  And games, and the Winter Classic, and common sense, and all of the good of last season went poof!

I'll say this for Emperor Goodell: he got the NFL lockout resolved before the season was compromised.  Plus, while the replacement referee official situation was bad (OK, very bad), the Emperor got it done - admittedly after damage had been done.

So now the NHL is back, and we're all supposed to kiss and make up?  Many of the lemmings have vowed to return.  YAY!  The NHL is back!  Let's go (insert team here)!

When do fans say "enough is enough?"  Hockey has seen not one...not two...but three, YES, THREE lockouts under Gary Bettman since 1994.  But I know fans are fans and they are going to come back.

Here, I say, unless a team is hiring me, I'm not going to a game.  At least not in the NHL.  I'll go the AHL, or college, or high school.  The Rangers t-shits, etc, all will stay in a bin.  It's my own small protest.

Let's see the league win me back.

One more thing. I hear this all the time: "the commissioner works for the owners."  That being said, you can't fire the owners, can you (other than an occasional dumping of Marge Schott or Frank McCort)?  But you can go after the commissioner.  My point is, who are fans (and broadcasters) going to scream at when things like this happen?  That's right - Bud, the Emperor, Stern, and Bettman.  They're the mouthpieces, just as Fehr and others are for the players.  But, and never forget this, the commissioners (and players association heads) aren't just messengers.  They're also advisers.  They give opinions.  They are part of the machine.

And thus, they are also guilty.

Enough guilt to go around.  Hockey fans have every right to still be angry.  Or, at the very least, confused.

So game on.  I guess. 

Technology and Kids

So Sean finally got an iPad for Christmas.  But...there was a catch.

First, yes, it's my former iPad.  I got a new one.  I had asked him if he wanted mine for Christmas months ago, and his answer was "Yes!"  I asked around in the days leading up to Christmas, and the universal answer was that my idea was a good one.  He did get more than the iPad.  So he's happy.



Oh, kudos to my cousin Kris for the idea to hide the iPad under the idea of it being "broken."  And Lisa was a co-conspirator.  Thanks to them both.

Before it got handed over to Sean, I changed a bunch of settings.  He can't download apps.  Can't even update them without my OK.  I used common sense and the advice of many online regarding what settings to change.  I left some music on there for him (he's a Beatles fan, after all).  Up to a point, there is some trust involved, but that trust is for him, not people online.  Only an idiot doesn't know that there are too many predators out there.

I also set him up with an email account - that goes to me.  The reason behind that is so that he can and I can communicate via iMessage.  I wanted a direct way to reach out to him from time to time, and this seemed to be a good avenue.  It's worked so far, whether he is upstairs or 20 miles away.

Unfortunately, it's an first generation iPad, so there's no camera.  Therefore, there's no Face Time.

I've often wondered about a cell phone for Sean.  Now - to be sure - I still think he's a touch too young.  That's just my opinion, of course.  He told me a few of his friends have cell phones, but I'm not ready to make that leap yet.  Still, I was interested in this article I read this morning from a woman who gave her 13-year-old son an iPhone for Christmas (via Good Morning America).  It came with a set of rules and regulations.  I think it is very smart.

Sean will eventually get one.  One step at a time.

Ummmmmm...REALLY?

Well, this happened.  The Stamford Advocate has an ad for a gun show on the same page as a story about Sandy Hook Elementary School kids returning to school.  A big oops, no doubt.  Appropriate wringing of hands can commence.  I will spare going to the outrage but it is a bad mistake.

From BuzzFeed

Hat tip to Paul Silverfarb for posting this.  Ugh.

UPDATE: An apology has been issued. Nothing else they could do except fess up, take steps to fix, and move on.

One Step Up

Ever hear a song a million times, then hear it again only to hear it differently?

If it has happened to you, then you know what I'm talking about.

I was in the car listening to E Street Radio on Sirius XM.  For those who don't know, that's Bruce Springsteen's channel.  It's all-Bruce, all the time*.  Concerts, covers, duets, rarities, bootlegs and the album tracks.  You can hear it all.

* Why there isn't a Beatles channel is beyond puzzling.  There's Elvis, Springsteen, Pearl Jam, Jimmy Buffet, and the Grateful Dead.  Even a very poorly run Frank Sinatra channel.  I mean...really?  No Beatles channel?

Today, perhaps in an all-too-pensive mood, I heard "One Step Up", a popular track from the Boss's 1987 effort Tunnel of Love.  I'd heard the song so many times, and I knew it had a lot to do with what was going on with Springsteen's collapsing marriage to actress Julianne Phillips.   There's a lot of deep stuff going on in those songs on the album.  I highlighted the title track once before.

It is easy to dismiss "One Step Up" due to its Adult Contemporary-friendly sound, but the lyrics are very powerful.  The depth of the metaphors for the narrator are quite striking.  The furnace isn't firing.  The Ford won't start.  The bird won't sing.  The church bells aren't ringing.  Should he cheat?  But he dreams about dancing with his wife.

It struck me today what an amazing song it is.  The depth of the collapse of his marriage, coupled with not liking what he sees in the mirror.

The ability to write these types of stories and create these types of characters is part of what makes Bruce Springsteen a truly national treasure in the legend of Woody Guthrie, and why he has so many fans.



And, yeah, count this as a "Rule 55."

Oh, before we step away from this, have a read of this post from Joe Posnanski.  It's about Bruce.  Sort of.  But also about shaves in Atlanta.  And giving the maximum effort.  Trust me on this one.  It's worth reading.

So This is the New Year

Here's a great song from Death Cab for Cutie.  Kind of sums up the whole New Year thing.


We're off and running on 2013.

Imagine

As we head off to 2013, let us remember the words of John Lennon.

2012

I'll spare you my annual "I hate this night" rant.  Two thousand twelve is almost over.  Time marches on.  It's soo overrated.  Plus Carson Daly.  I mean, really?

But let's process this past year.  It was, at times, "a very good year" (Frank Sinatra, of course).  At other times, it wasn't.  But I mean, really, isn't every year like that?

I traveled a lot in this year.  I'll always remember that.  It started with

Charleston...

then Las Vegas (of which, I'm assuming, I will never get the rest of the pictures)...

then Cooperstown.  A quick weekend to Philadelphia for my niece's graduation followed, then came...

Tampa Bay (that's Fred Howard Park in Tarpon Springs above).  I wasn't done yet.  I went hiking and camping, and for the first time, I went to...

 Cape Cod.  The big trips dried up at that point, except for...

Florida. Again.

Yet, the naysayer can offer that I didn't go to Africa, or Europe, or Lava Hot Springs, Idaho.  But I have a hard time complaining.  Simply going to Florida (twice) and Cape Cod would have been enough for me.  I would have liked maybe some more long weekends and/or day trips, but all good.  I only went to Reading, PA (for Waffle House and outlets) twice in 2012.  Not complaining.  Just saying.

Personally and professionally, we saw it all.  We revived "The Press Box."  That was the good news.  We did Greenwich football, but have yet to call a hockey game.  I wrote more professionally than ever in 2012, and there's a calling for me to do more.  Some think I'm sort-of OK at this writing gig.  On the other hand, here on the "mother ship" I didn't pour out the volume that I wanted.

There's a reason for everything.  Some are more involved than others, but all of them are real and honest.

I started the year with questions.  I'm ending it the same way.  In between were highs and lows.  Fun and sorrow.  Stress and euphoria.

See what I mean?  ANY year can be seen as both good...and bad.

Look, we can go with the basics here.  I'm still alive.  That's a good start.  I still have Sean, and we're as close as ever.  So, OK, let's go with that.

One can always hope for better.  One should.  I do.

I hope for 2013.  Oh, how I hope.  But then again, I hope for tomorrow.  The next day.  The next minute.  So it goes.  But I hope for peace.  That's my hope every year.  We're so far from that.  I hope for prosperity.  We all deserve it.  I hope for love - unconditional.  Happiness.  Jeez, it's not that hard, is it?

I hope for continued recovery in Newtown, and Breezy Point, and the Jersey Shore.  I hope for our politicians to find a clue.

Selfishly, I hope for brighter days.  And work - lots of it.  And work for my friends who also aren't working.

This is on my mind today...

Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?

And each time I feel like this inside,
There's one thing I wanna know:
What's so funny 'bout peace, love, & understanding?

- Nick Lowe, "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding?" (Most famously performed by Elvis Costello)



All the best for a great 2013.

The Cowboys Are Done

The Dallas Cowboys season just ended.

It ended in the same way as the Steelers, Jets, Giants and others.

Not.  In.  The.  Playoffs.

So...if your team isn't in, you're no different than Cowboys fans.  If you are a fan of the Broncos, Patriots, Texans, Bengals, Colts, Ravens, Falcons, Niners, Packers, Seahawks, Vikings, and Redskins, then to the victor goes the spoils.

Carry on.

A Joe Posnanski Baseball Card Story

I've kind of set it all up right there for you in the title of the post, no?  Fantastic baseball writer Joe Posnanski has a story that those of us who collected baseball cards in the 70's, and grew up in that decade, can absolutely relate to.  To be honest, this is one of those things that, even if you're not a sports fan, you can appreciate. 

Joe speaks of first memories of the Oakland A's.  For me, it's 1972, and it's Bobby Murcer doubling off of Jim Palmer at Yankee Stadium (my first game).  It's that first sight of the magnificence of the first Yankee Stadium - sadly, on its last legs before the John Lindsay renovation of 1974-75.  Then I so clearly recall the 1975 World Series and Pudge Fisk.  I can recall getting some baseball cards in 1974, and even more in '75.  But, like Joe, it's 1976 for me that things exploded.  I have total recall of standing on the front steps of my parents' home looking at the card above - the 1976 Thurman Munson.  There's the Captain, full of moodiness, posing in Fort Lauderdale (one-time spring home of the 1976 American League champions), with all the facial hair he can strike up, just to anger Mr. George M. Steinbrenner III.

Read Joe's post.  It was a fun ride down memory lane remembering the days before you could just as easily go buy the entire set of cards.  Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't put another 1976 card up, as strange-looking as it is (yes, it's still in my collection).

Oh, how that image hurts.

The "Announcer Snob" Has His Say

Yep, that's me.  Pat "T-Boone" Pickens has named me an announcer snob, to go along with the opinion of a few others.

Personally, I like the term "critic" but, hey, semantics and all.  It's OK.  I recently suggested that I would make a fine sports media critic in the style of Neil Best.

Or Richard Deitsch.

I noticed that Sports Illustrated is conducting an online poll for the best and worst in sports media in 2012.  Deitsch will have the results next week.  So...I'll weigh in.

First up! Best play-by-play announcer.  The nominees:

- Al Michaels
- Mike Breen
- Joe Buck
- Dan Shulman
- Mike Emrick
- Ian Eagle

I like each broadcaster.  Michaels is the dean of the NFL guys, while Breen has stepped near the head of the class for basketball.  I like Buck (sue me), and though I prefer Shulman on radio, he's still so solid on TV.  You know how I feel about Doc Emrick.  Ian Eagle is near the top of the NFL at this point.

But it shouldn't surprise you.  Doc Emrick gets my vote.

Mr. Scully, by the way, is still better than all of them.  That is said with no disrespect intended.

Next...best analyst:
- Charles Barkley
- Kirk Herbstreit
- Jeff Van Gundy
- Cris Collinsworth
- Doris Burke
- Dan Fouts

All decent to good.  I think guys like Jon Gruden, Troy Aikmen (who does NOT hate the Giants), and Phil Simms are overlooked here.  But these are the nominees.  I struggle calling Barkley an analyst, but indeed he does analyze games mostly from the studio.  I tend to think of these announcers as game analysts.  Either way, my vote might be a small surprise.  I like Herbie - Kirk Herbstreit, with Van Gundy a very close second.

Best announcing team?
- Al Michaels/Cris Collinsworth
- Mike Breen/Jeff Van Gundy
- Dan Shulman/Orel Hershiser/Terry Francona
- Mike Emrick/Ed Olczyk
- Brent Musberger/Kirk Herbstreit

Again, a solid collection.  But I'll keep my thoughts short.  Doc and Edzo are the cream of the crop.  They're smart at breaking a game down, know when to tighten things up, and also bring a little levity in.  Olczyk has become the marquee hockey analyst (so long as John Davidson isn't nearby).  Give me Emrick and Olczyk.

Somhow the team of Adams/Erway/DeMaria/Kaelin got overlooked.  An oversight, I'm sure.

Best studio show?
- Inside the NBA
- College GameDay
- Baseball Tonight
- Fox NFL Sunday
- Fantasy Football Now
- NFL Live

This came down to two for me.  Inside the NBA has the right mix of analysis and laughs.  But Fox NFL Sunday is the original.  They also have Terry Bradshaw.  They need to get the comedians out of the way though.

Most unlikable sports personality?
- Skip Bayless
- Tony Siragusa
- Stephen A. Smith
- Michael Irvin
- Colin Cowherd
- Deion Sanders

Tough choices!  But Skip Bayless has earned it.  His attempt to say Derek Jeter might have indulged in steroids was laughable.  That gave him this award for me.

Best place to watch sports in 2012
- Fox
- ESPN
- CBS
- NFL
- Turner
- NBC

They had the Super Bowl.  The Olympics.  Sunday Night Football.  I chose NBC, mostly for the Olympics factor.

And had they said "LISTEN" to sports, well, then we know it would have been WGCH.

By the way, I don't think the voters agree with me.  Michaels was far ahead for best play-by-play, Collinsworth was leading for analyst, Michaels and Collinsworth for best team, College GameDay for best studio show, and ESPN for best place to watch.  Skip Bayless, on the other hand, well, yeah.

Perspective, Chapter Infinity

I was recently in a McDonald's in Pleasant Valley, NY.  Sure, we can debate my awful culinary choices, but it really wasn't about that.  I was there to get an ice tea for Lisa.

But it was happened after that that appalled me.

I stepped away from the counter and was preparing to leave when I heard another customer beginning to stir up a ruckus.  He berated the staff and management, ultimately asking for his money back.

The offense?  They forgot to give him some extra sweet and sour sauce.

I mean, seriously.

In the dining area, the noise was enough that not only could everyone hear it, but some got out of their seats to go see the person.  The reaction ranged from head-shaking to muttering.

A guy in a Steelers hat (fine human being, he) caught my eye.  All we could do was think of what went on a mere 50 miles or so away.

Of course, Newtown.

Let's be real here.  You're going to act like a straight-up ass, demand your money back, and say you're never going to eat there again over...sweet...and...sour...sauce?  Think about that.  You've embarrassed yourself.  Have you no ethics?  Scruples?  A clue?  Or are you just standing there, with your hat on backwards, Bluetooth in your ear, thinking that the fine people just trying to do a hard-day's work at McDonald's are there simply for your freaking McRib?  Shall they also serve it on fine China?

It's easy to understand and say the guy had a bad day.  Sure, we're all entitled to a brain cloud and go off the highway just a tad.  But there are limits.  To me - to anyone - he surpassed that limit.

I think the mere fact that we were all so shocked at his behavior kept each person there from accosting him.

In the days after what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School, how could anyone not simply pause and grab reality?  I hated seeing the Steelers lose to the Cowboys Sunday night, but let's face it: I didn't play in the game.  I had no vested interest in it other than being a fan.  And given the circumstances, who freaking cares?  Even I could admit that it...was...a...GAME.

It's the holidays.  Hug a child.  A loved one.  Spend time with a friend.  Do charity work.  But do NOT go off on some poor person at McDonald's because you didn't get some extra condiment.

Just crawl back into your hole.  Now.

Zach Sobiech "Clouds"

I put this on my Facebook page yesterday with the following heading:

"Check this out, and please share. Zach Sobiech is terminally ill, and turned to music. His song is wonderful, and heartbreaking."

I'm not sure how many people went from the page to see the video, but I know I got two "likes."  I'd like as many people to see this as possible.  Therefore I am posting it here.


I know it's tough to see even more sadness right now.  I get it.  But for this young man, the views are worth it.

More on Zach's story can be found here.

The Asperger's Thing

***Honestly, I tried to find an appropriate picture to put at the top of this post.  There wasn't one.

In the days since the tragedy of Newtown at Sandy Hook Elementary School, a certain amount of attention has been given to Adam Lanza* having Asperger's Syndrome.  That, for many, seemed to be the short, simple answer.  "Oh, he did what he did because of Asperger's?  Makes' sense."

Except, simply, it doesn't.  Perhaps you knew that when you first heard that explanation.  Personally, it made no sense.  There's no connection.

*I saw where Anderson Cooper felt it was duty to not report the name of the killer.  He would only say the name once - twice, maybe!  Gee.  How noble.  What tough-guy journalism!  What a stand!  Blech.  I then turned the channel.

Without getting further off-topic, please (and I can't encourage you enough) read this column from Jeff Pearlman.  It's outstanding, and only a shame that Reader's Digest never ran it originally.

Steelers-Cowboys

It's been 48 hours since the tragedy in Newtown.  There is no blueprint.  There's no right answer for when it is OK to return to caring about frivolity.  I'm taking a stab at football today.

Super Bowl XIII.  The Pittsburgh Steelers played the Dallas Cowboys in the Orange Bowl in Miami.  It was a brilliant game, as the Stillers beat "America's Team" (ha ha ha) 35-31.  At home in Mahopac, a 10 year-old Rob Adams had found his love for the NFL, and his favorite team.

It was born because I had a classmate in fourth grade at Austin Road Elementary School, Pat Urell, who was a Cowboys fan.  We were pretty good friends, but he liked to talk smack (even if I didn't know what "smack" was).  He bet me a whopping 25 cents that Dallas would beat the three-time two-time Super Bowl champs.  The winning team would be the first to win three Lombardi Trophies.

I really hadn't settled on a team before that.  With multiple trips to Florida as a kid (pre-Tampa Bay Bucs), I liked the Dolphins.  Plus I had a cat named Morris, and the 'Phins had Mercury Morris*, who wore number 22, which was my birthday.  But my father and brother were both Jets fans.  But the Giants often used the interlocking NY on jackets and such, reminiscent of the Yankees (and they once played in Yankee Stadium).

*Mercury has since become known for being a little crazy, shall we say, with his sole reason for existing being the Dolphins 17-0 season in 1972.


I was confused.  But there was one thing we all agreed on.  We all hated the Dallas Cowboys.  Well, except for my father, who liked Tom Landry, but I'm not sure he cared otherwise.

But I was otherwise taught to detest Landry.  Tex Schramm.  Roger Staubach.  Tony Dorsett.  The star.  The hole in the roof of Texas Stadium.  I was taught to not care about the cheerleaders.  There are other women in the world.    Was there anything more delightful than watching Landry scream at his offense when they ran a bad play against the Redskins?  Anything better than watching the Cowboys lose?

Later on, how about that look of pain on Jerry Jones' face?  Shoving that "How 'bout dem Cowboys" crap right at them?  

Well, sometimes seeing the whine-and-cheese 49ers fall on their faces could be delightful.  Or the Raiders, with their lowest common denominator fans (and players).  And of course, the Browns, Bengals, and Ravens (aka, the "Old Browns").

But it was founded with the Cowboys.  And with Super Bowl XIII, I was hooked.  Since the Cowboys were playing, and Pat Urell was laying his 25 cents, I had just one question:

Who are they playing?

Here are the player introductions, broadcast on NBC in 1979.


By the way, I never officially won the bet.  Pat bailed because of the point spread.  Whatever.

Today, almost 34 years after that game, Big Ben and company head to Cowboys Stadium for the latest renewal of the rivalry.  It should be fun.  The dislike remains after all these years (remember, the two teams also met in Super Bowl X.  Rumor has it they played in Super Bowl XXX, but I guess I don't remember that one).

Both teams need it for the playoffs.

You know where my heart is.

Newtown, CT

At The Flagpole in Newtown, CT (RA photo, July, 2004)

I know Newtown, CT.  Nice "New England" type of town, with a charming movie theater, general store, fairly quiet.  A bucolic place.

My sister lives in Fairfield, CT, and it wasn't uncommon for members of my family to drive to Newtown (at the flagpole, where US 6 and CT Route 25 meet).  We all know the town.  I've driven through it countless times.  A few miles away sits Route 34, which winds north and west from New Haven to Sandy Hook - an enclave of Newtown.  It's where US 6 used to meet 34 before Interstate 84 was built.  A charming little place, where "everybody knows everyone."

Just off route 34 came unspeakable tragedy.

Today, Newtown and Sandy Hook, reached a level of celebrity that nobody wants.  In the way that we know "Columbine", we will now speak of "Newtown and Sandy Hook."

If you don't know, earlier today, one of the most deadly mass murders in our country's history occurred in Newtown, at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  It's the second worst school massacre*, in back of Virginia Tech.  As of this writing, just after 6:00 PM, 20 schoolchildren area dead.  The total dead could be 28, or more.

I need to stress that the facts are still very raw, and there has already been a lot of misinformation.

*NOTE: Through a little further research, I've discovered that the Bath School Disaster, in Bath Township, Michigan on May 18, 1927, was the deadliest in history.  This fact matters so very little, but it is a fact, so I felt I must amend this.

As well as I know Newtown, I was miles away from there when I heard the news.  With Lisa, I got the early word from my "Press Box" colleagues.  Initially, there seemed to be minimal issues - a couple of people hurt, the wounded at Danbury Hospital.  Schools and the hospital were locked down, with good reason.  Lisa and I headed out for holiday shopping, in Kingston, NY.  While grabbing lunch, I checked my phone to see what Ryan, Kato, and CJ were talking about, when the numbers hit me.

Suddenly, I felt like I might burst into tears.  I was upset with the initial news, given that it's so close to "my home area" and, by extension, Sean.  But now, the whole thing exploded for me.  For the past six hours, every time I try to talk about Sean, I well up.  He's fine, folks, and I know that, but I just want to hug him.  I want to put the iPad in his hands, and listen to him giggle. 

I feel so deeply for the families tonight.  I am totally devastated for my friends in Connecticut - Newtown, Danbury, Bethel, and beyond.  Everyone is feeling the sadness.  This, we continue to learn, can happen to any of us.  That's where the fear comes in.

Lisa and I walked around, feeling almost numb.  The sound of Christmas music, to be honest, angered me.  To be further honest, the sound of rock music pouring out of the stations near Newtown struck me as insensitive.

Friends, for me, tonight isn't the time for the hand-wringing over gun control.  It's become obvious to me that if someone wants to attack, then they will somehow.  It strikes me that mental health needs to be deeply researched to understand what the hell is going on. 

But again, tonight is not the night for the debate.  It also is not the night for windbags like this guy who said God did nothing to stop this tragedy because He has been taken out of the classroom (Mediaite).  Tonight is the night for being sensitive.  ESPN has decided to be very prudent in their approach (Deadspin).

Tonight is about a big group hug.

If you haven't seen or heard the President, here's what he had to say today.


Over at The Onion, they pretty much said what I, and many others, are feeling tonight.

In parts of Connecticut, they're going to play sports tonight.  The Stamford/Bridgeport Central basketball game is on TV.  That, of course, is their choice.  If I had a game to call, I would.  It's my job, and I would approach it as such, but with a very heavy heart.  I might even chide the governing bodies for having played the game.  But it's their call.  Still, I think we would be best served to have a night off to hold each other.

At times, I have questioned myself as to if I'm being melodramatic.  The short answer is: no.

My heart breaks for Newtown and Sandy Hook.  I hope for them to find strength and to stay together.

There are no answers for the most unspeakable thing.  Little kids went to school today and aren't coming home.

Explain that to me.

Doc Emrick

It has long been acknowledged that Mike "Doc" Emrick is the best voice in the NHL (on the American side).  Indeed, he is the best play-by-play voice in hockey.  Of course, one must also know that I consider him to be the best - period, if not the best ever.  There is no doubt that Doc has entered into the rarefied air of my favorite play-by-play announcers.  So we're talking in the stratosphere - right near Vin Scully.

Anyway, I'm working on a new opening to "The Press Box" that will feature well-known play-by-play calls and removes the Ryan Kelly interception return (called by me) that we've used since the shows inception.  The only reason I'm changing it (to be honest) is because that play happened over a year ago.  I could have gone - quite frankly - with the Austin Longi play from Thanksgiving.

Instead, I decided to mix it up.  Each guy got to pick a call.  As for what the final product will sound like, you'll have to listen.

But while looking for some Doc audio, I stumbled across this.  How did I miss it?  Deadspin, take it away!

And while we're at it, here are some of Doc's best.


I saw another video that was all about 10 broadcasters, essentially, losing their "stuff" on the air.  Then I heard it included Gus Johnson and that goawful "May Day" call, and I decided against posting it.  I value a certain friendship.

Yet I'm trying to be nicer and not be as harsh as I am on play-by-play announcers.  I don't think I can ease up on Gus - just not my style - but I'm trying to be kinder and gentler.  Plus I've been told that I'm, essentially, a hater.

Back to Hoops

This is a basketball.

It is hard to believe that it's been almost three years since I last called a basketball game.  It was a doubleheader to end the regular season for Mount Saint Mary College on Hudson Valley Talk Radio, called by Chris Kaelin and I.

I shook the rust off last Saturday.

Tom Prizeman, a junior at Pleasantville High School (in Pleasantville, NY - not home to Reese Witherspoon) is working hard at becoming a sports broadcaster.  I first met him a few years ago when Ryan DeMaria and I were doing the national edition of "The Press Box."  He was eager and confident, to be sure, and definitely had the drive to make it.  He has grown since then, becoming the "voice" of the Panthers in various sports for their local TV broadcasts.

A few weeks ago, I had a chance to broadcast a national youth football tournament.  The uncertainty of the Greenwich Cardinals' playoff run made me feel like I would be holding the tournament organizer up*, and I didn't feel that was professional.  So I turned it open to my friends on the discussion boards at STAA.  Andy Towne was the first one to get in touch, and he got the position.

* Of course, we know now that Greenwich lost to Xavier, and I could have broadcast the tournament.  Instead - and hardly a consolation prize - I was offered the chance to be the public address announcer for a basketball tournament at Monroe College.  The college was willing to wait to see if my schedule opened.

In the process of all of this, I thought of Tom.  It would have been a good situation for him.  But Andy got to me first.  Tom reached out to me not long after.  The byproduct of this was that it opened up a dialogue between Tom and I.  Before long, I found out that Tom would be calling basketball this past weekend, and that I was welcome to join him.

Sean and I jumped in the car and drove to Rye High School (a place I'm familiar with) and joined Tom for the call of the Panthers and the Garnets.  My contribution to the event, besides serving as a mentor, was bringing some of my equipment (as old as it is!) to step the production value up just a notch.

Tom had not called basketball yet, so I took the first half and a brief stretch into the second half when I noticed that both Tom and I were doing play-by-play.  During a time out, we talked it over and decided that Tom should drive the bus from there.  He was fine, and my color was decent (I've never been a great color commentator, in my opinion), though I was prescient in the thought that the Panthers' emotional play might be their undoing, and indeed a technical foul late in the fourth quarter was the turning point of the game.  Rye would go onto the victory.

As for my play-by-play, Tom was kind in his praise of my work, but sheesh, I'm better than that.  I know - I only saw the roster minutes before we started, but that's my thing: always be my toughest critic.  I liked my energy, and most of my attention to detail, but the names weren't as sharp as I wanted.  Oh well, it's not initially like riding a bicycle.

Anyway, I've been asked to do more, and I just might.  I'm going to check into the schedule and see what fits.  It would be nice to get back to doing hoops (and hockey).

Just Remembering...

It happens a couple of times every year.  I take a moment - a small post - to remember my father.  I may weave a story into a post here and there, but there are two days annually that stand out more than any other:

St Patrick's Day, the day he died.

And today, December 10th, the day he was born.

And with each post, I fear I risk you, the faithful reader, rolling your eyes, as you might with endless posts about Sean, Yankee Stadium, the 50-point rule, Roger Goodell, life, and so on.  Yet I continue.

My dad was born on this day in 1929.  His mother, a fascinating woman named Daisy, was - get this - FIFTY when he was born.  His father worked for the telephone company as an executive.  His brother would also work for the telephone company, but in more of a "telephone man" way.

My dad would go into pure blue collar jobs.  He drove a truck for a plumbing supply company.  He married my mom and raised three kids.  He saw three grandchildren come into the world.  He missed out on the further extension of our family.

He was as liked as any person I've ever known.

I continue to learn things about him.  I didn't realize, for instance, that he and his family watched from an overpass on the Taconic Parkway as the King and Queen of England drove by to have hot dogs with FDR in Hyde Park in June, 1939.  Whether the story was accurate or not is immaterial to me.  It's new information.

So hang in there with me, as I take just a moment of your time to remember him.  One day, I hope to get some of the video that exists converted into a digital format.  Sadly, no trace of his voice exists that I know of, but if you've heard mine, then I think you have a pretty good idea.

Happy birthday to the old man.  I can't imagine him being 83.  That's what death does.  It freezes things in time.

The Sad Goodbye: 2012 Football

Austin Longi running for Greenwich.  Photo courtesy MSG Varsity (I'd add more info but the MSG Varsity website wouldn't allow me to access it).  Notice the WGCH banner in the background.

I drove to meet Ryan DeMaria yesterday afternoon in Danbury with a thought in my mind:

Is this the last football game I will ever broadcast on WGCH?  Is it the last game at all?

It's tenuous every year, of course, since we go year to year.  But this year feels more tenuous than ever.

I let the feeling go, met Ryan, and drove to Palmer Field in Middletown (thanks to Ryan for letting us use his car).  Chris Erway and Max Barefoot joined us there, and we prepared to call the Greenwich/Xavier state quarterfinal game.  I'll spare you the story of how we worked how to set up a phone line, only to be told TEN MINUTES INTO THE BROADCAST that we were using someone else's phone line, from the guy who was watching us set up for an hour!

The setup there was unlike anything I have ever experienced.  We were situated in the back row of the press box, behind the public address announcer and virtually everyone else.  Our choices were: 1) Go to the roof and freeze or 2) Sit in the back of the booth and stay warm.  Plus, we thought, we would have a hard phone line.  Sigh...not so much.  But our cell phone turned out to be good, so no worries.  We stayed warm - partially obscured by the fans and the building, which took parts of the field out of our view.*

* On a somewhat warmer night 12 years earlier, Sean Kilkelly and I did do a game from the roof of Palmer Field.  The view was better.

Look, I'm not going to get into a breakdown of the game.  Xavier took advantage of turnovers, and what we thought might have been a tired Greenwich team, coming off the Thanksgiving game.  It wasn't for lack of effort.  Xavier was the better team on this night.  Injuries didn't help, but that's not an excuse, because Xavier lost a key player in the second quarter.  Xavier won - plain and simple.  Greenwich had a chance to keep things close at the end of the first half, but Boston College-bound Tim Boyle found a wide open Kris Luster for a big score.  Even then, Greenwich had a shot to open the second half with a touchdown, but a very questionable fumble call gave the ball back to Xavier, and the Falcons took advantage.

As the third quarter came to an end, the Cardinals were trying to keep the Falcons out of the end zone again, when Boyle ran the ball into the end zone.  A late hit by Greenwich led to retaliation by a Xavier player, which led to a scuffle out of our view.  That, of course, was bad enough.  Police and coaches jumped in immediately to stop that, and of course, the striped shirts threw flags.

Nobody was tossed from the game.  Despite the hyperbole, for the most part, the on the field theatrics were over.

In the stands, well, it wasn't the proudest moment.

OK, let's start with Palmer Field itself.  It's a fascinating place, with a baseball field to the far corner of our view in the press box (in other words, the football press box is in right center field).  It's fun and charming in that regard.  But for reasons I'm not sure of, the VISITING (Greenwich) bench is right near the bleachers.  Xaviers' bench is on the opposite side, with no bleachers behind them.  Only the baseball field is at their backs.

As you can imagine, this means that BOTH sets of fans - home and away - are sitting on the same side, separated by a set of stairs.  So...

Xavier fans began to bark at Greenwich fans.  Greenwich fans barked back.  These are the adults, who are supposed to be, you know, the role models.  At one point, I spied a vehement argument between a female Xavier fan and a male Greenwich spectator.  They were fairly close together before the woman was pulled away.

Let's be clear.  I'm not accusing or defending anyone.  I'm telling you what I saw.  Now let's discuss what I heard:

- That Greenwich players were flipping off the Xavier fans (inexcusable, if true, but that speaks to the location of the GHS bench also).
- That Xavier fans - THE ADULTS - were throwing water at the Greenwich bench.  This one isn't hearsay.  I spoke with someone who got hit by it.
- Of course, the usual "class" discussion..."Greenwich is rich.  All about money."  "Xavier is tough.  Blue collar."  Please, people, find something original.

Mostly, in the end, it's much ado about nothing.  But...this shouldn't be happening in the stands.  Under any circumstances.  Things did die down, but a black eye was given to the night, and I'm only telling you the little bit that I heard and saw.  I guarantee there was more.

We finished the game and packed up and left.  Their was an air of sadness (maybe even bitterness) at the end of the broadcast.  It is always rough to say goodbye, and CJ, Deemer, Kato, Max, Killer, and the Captain gave it our best.

Hopefully there's more to come - hockey and basketball.  Spring sports after.  Then back to football.

I hope.

But this 2012 team gave us thrills.  Great captains.  Very good players.  People who became friends to us.  They deserved a different finish to the season, but that's not how the script goes.

I thank them all.  Players.  Coaches.  Families.  Fans.  Listeners.

I just wish it had ended differently.