This Week

As I mentioned on Saturday morning, it's quite a time around here. The debut of Hersam Acorn Radio is coming on Thursday at Noon with the FCIAC Football Championship Pregame Show, followed by the Championship Game Friday night at 6:45.

But there is so much work to do. Pick the music, produce commercials, get rosters, write notes, and so on. Then there's the setup and breakdown. Engineering and everything else.

Now add in writing stories for the Wilton Bulletin and host The Press Box (tonight at 7).

I'm no complaining at all. Oh, no. It's a good time, but a stressful time.

It's going to be great. I just wish it would get here!

Hersam Acorn Radio

Page 1 of this weeks New Canaan Advertister

I can keep a secret. Sometimes it's tough, but when sworn to secrecy, I can keep it to myself.

I've been keeping something quiet for over three months now. Finally, I can let it out.

A new project, Hersam Acorn Radio, will debut Thursday afternoon, with the grand opening on Friday night.

With the help of Paul Silverfarb, we began to craft an idea for an online radio channel. Once we had a fairly salient proposal, we passed it on to Marty Hersam, the "Hersam" in the company name. We didn't use a conference room. We didn't use email, or a memo.

We did it after a softball game.

He was intrigued. That was in August.

So began the journey. I met with Marty in the Ridgefield office and was told at that time to keep the idea quiet.

The plan seemed to lag after that. Everyone was busy and it even seemed that it might die. And then...

Paul suggested a site to host our audio, Mixlr, which has an app for the iPhone (as well as Android, though I'm told the results are shaky there at best, so we're still looking into options). We will embed our live broadcasts from Mixlr onto our sites, or people can just listen via Mixlr.

Next, I needed a mixer, preferably one with a USB hookup to take the audio to the computer. We purchased one, and we were on our way. I knew with my collection of equipment, we would be just fine.

We had to do some tests, and I played around with it on a personal site I created on Mixlr. You can hear the early results, including a few tests of just some talking, a talk show with my Wilton Continuing Ed class, and a full broadcast of the Brunswick/Berkshire football game that Paul and I called.

Among the tests was the day I disappeared into a room off to the side of our kitchen in the Ridgefield office and just talked online for almost an hour. Several people listened in to give us all feedback, while the web people did their work to try out a website embedding widget.

With the tests completed, the goal was set. While I wanted to get it going for the start of football season, once that passed, I turned my eyes towards the FCIAC football championship.

Friday, November 22.

From the New Canaan Advertiser

But first, we will begin with a preview show, on Thursday, November 21, at Noon. Paul Silverfarb (he of course of the Greenwich Post), Dave Stewart (of the New Canaan Advertiser, and the FCIAC.net guru), Bill Bloxsom (of the Trumbull Times, among others), and I will review the season and discuss the championship game. Then, on Friday, Paul and I will have the call as New Canaan plays the St. Joseph Cadets. Chris Kaelin - yes, from WGCH - will walk the sideline for us, and we hope to get input from Bill and Dave as well.

All of the broadcasts will be archived on Mixlr and SoundCloud.

Hersam Acorn Radio is an opportunity for us to expand our coverage and show off the amazing reporters we have in the company. We haven't quite determined what's next, and I'm still writing away at the Bulletin in the meantime, so it's definitely a time to stay tuned. Plus I'm still at WGCH, so make sure to catch our work there as well (we've got GYFL Championship Sunday at 11:00 on 11/17).

I'm nervously excited. At the same time, it is overwhelming.

You will be able to listen at the New Canaan Advertiser and the Trumbull Times, as well as at FCIAC.net.

We'll have more here as this project develops.

Dave Brubeck

As you walk into the Wilton Library, the first door on the left leads you into a small hall, known as the Brubeck Room.

The picture of the bust, above, was taken in that room. It is of the namesake: the amazing Dave Brubeck.

Mr. Brubeck lived in Wilton until the day he died. To say he is a music icon is a very fair statement.

His 1959 album, Time Out, made with the Dave Brubeck Quartet, is one of the most important jazz pieces ever made. With the silky smooth Paul Desmond on alto sax, Eugene Wright on bass, and Joe Morello on drums, the album hit the pop charts, peaking at number two in 1961. The single, and signature tune, "Take Five," also reached the pop charts as well.

I really became a Brubeck fan in late 90's, so to be able to visit this room, and see this tribute to him, is an honor.

Here is the quartet playing Take Five.

A Good Reminder

I was terrible last night. Just. Horrible.

I had the call, with Chris Erway in the booth, plus Tom Prizeman and Matt Bozzuto on the field, as well as Sean Kilkelly in the studio, of the Greenwich/Westhill football game. GHS won the mess, 40-7.

Holy heck, I wouldn't even hire me if I could.

I knew I didn't feel well, but a head cold really isn't a solid excuse. As my Friday progressed, I realized that I was working off a minimal breakfast and no lunch. Knowing that I didn't want to get to Cardinal Stadium with nothing in my system, I stopped at Dunkin Donus for a cup of coffee and a bagel.

It didn't help.

I set things up, and we were ready to go by 6:00, which is somewhat unusual this season. There hasn't been time, generally, for me to go to the field and chat with coaches, or find the tailgate and talk with the families.

Not there have been many tailgates this year. The parking lot at GHS is in a bit of a shambles due to construction.

The game started, and I just felt like I couldn't stay with the play. I was misspeaking also - making up words. Just destroying the language. It was alarming, at least to Chris Erway, who asked if I was OK when we were in a break.

Halftime arrived quickly, with the game at 14-0 in favor of Big Red. I grabbed a dinner of a wrap, a sliver of red velvet cake, made by a friend off public address announcer Dick Leonard, and a Kit Kat bar, courtesy of the great Nancy Chelwick, who always comes up to see us, even on a pretty cold November night.

Side note: her husband, George, is a friend of mine, and a wonderful man. Let's think good thoughts for my friend. Nothing too serious, but he just couldn't get to the game last night.

The food seemed to do the trick. My call was a little more crisp in the second half, and Erway said my description of Austin Longi's 80-yard scamper following a cluster-bleep of penalties was good. So I'll take it.

We survived and finished.

By the way, the officiating was just silly. Too many personal foul penalties to count. But I've never been a football official, so I will decline to criticize. Besides, plenty of other people in the crowd did.

So for those who listened last night, my apologies. I didn't feel right, and it was a good reminder to keep the system running. I'll try to right the ship next Friday at Danbury.

Team Sports and the Mahopac Sports Association

Me, MSA rookie, 1977 at Lakeview School in Mahopac, NY, in the days before they gave out uniform pants.

A few days ago, over on the blog at the Wall Street Journal, Jeff Pearlman wrote a fascinating piece called "Why I Don't Want My Kids to Play Team Sports." It broke down his frustration with the way his brother wast treated in the Mahopac Sports Association in 1982, and the overall culture of youth team sports.

I won't minimize his take at all. It sounds like his brother, while probably not a talented athlete, was mistreated by an unfortunate coach.  Yes indeed, sports (and literally anything else in life) can have a bad impact on confidence and self-esteem.

Now let me tell you about a no-glove, no-hit kid from those same streets, albeit from the other side of town. While talent was an issue, heart, they say, was not. He'd run through a wall for you. Tell him to squeeze? He'd gulp, say "Who? Me?" and then do it.

His confidence could also be as fragile as a floppy slice of pizza from any of Mahopac's fine establishments.

There were times when he, too, had to ride the pine, waiting for his appointed chance. But he showed up to every game. He made it to every practice. He loved the uniform. Loved getting his number.

He tried to wear 2 a lot because his boyhood idol wore that in his later years.

I mean, it's a layup (wrong sports metaphor) of course that I'm talking about me.

I played in MSA for 11 years and hold those memories very close to my heart. I can tell you the highs and lows. I can tell you about my colt league season (my second year in MSA) when I couldn't see the ball and hit a robust .000.

That's right. Then I got glasses and never had the problem again, with my father promising to buy me a custom-made T-shirt as soon as I got my first hit of the next year. He made good on it, too, taking me to Tom Kat in Mahopac (in the old Grand Union grocery store) and we made a fake Yankees road uniform with "New York" across the front and my number 55 across the back.

I still have my trophies, because everybody didn't get one back then.

I can tell you in that same hitless colt league season, I took a called third strike to end a game. In an utter flood of tears, I promised I would never let that happen again.

I didn't. I developed a better sense of the strike zone, which made me a good top of the lineup guy because I walked a lot.

In a total state of fear (not the best way to survive), I always found a way to not make the last out. And I certainly didn't take a called third strike.

Yes, I could regale you with other great and not-so-great memories. Stealing home to win a game. Throwing runners out from right field at third. Making scoop plays and falling in love with playing first base when we needed somebody at that position.

I could take you - in detail - through the 1986 championship game, and how I scored the winning run.

I could tell you about the great friends I made, and the athletes I played against (including eventual Seattle Mariner Dave Fleming).

I could go on about my undying love and respect for Lou D'Aliso, the coach who had me on his team for seven of those 11 years, and never had to keep me. I still talk to Mrs. D all the time, and am trying to get together with the great coach, who was often a mentor for me.

Letting him down was like failing my dad. Slamming my glove down after a season-opening error earned me a quick talking to, because Coach D expected me to be a leader.

It was devastating, and it didn't happen again.

It wasn't a perfect experience. Goodness, no. But I loved it enough that when it came time for Sean to give baseball a try, I jumped in feet first and coached him for five years in Carmel. We both loved it.

Maybe it's more about the love of the game with me, and that why my MSA experience was such a positive one.

I encourage children to play team sports. I know, there's a nasty, ugly side to youth sports, but at its core, it should be about learning sportsmanship and developing the skills to play the game. They should be led by good, honorable people with no agenda, but that's simply a myopic view. For every Coach D, there's also the guy that Jeff profiles in his story.

In reality, and I've said that too many times, it's the adults who ruin the kids' fun. A bad coach. An overzealous administrator. Parents. Fans.

Its not perfect. Heck, what is?

But let's put it this way: On my bookcase is a framed picture that was given to me back in 1986. It's a team picture of Mahopac Towing, in our royal blue T-shirts (I was number 7). We're standing in front of the side of what was then-known as Mahopac Junior High School (now Mahopac Middle School). I can't identify everyone, but in that picture are me, Frank Viggiano, Steve Adamec, Ralph D'Aliso, and a bunch of other friends and teammates.

I haven't seen many of them since we left school, but I still have that picture. I still have the trophies. I still have the memories.

I wasn't a good athlete. But I had a wonderful experience in MSA.

Sandy...the Storm

The Saw Mill Parkway was closed. Then again, when is it not? (RA photo)

It was a year ago today that Hurricane and, eventually, Superstorm Sandy hit the metropolitan New York area.

I wrote about the experience here - a surreal day that left me largely unscathed and lucky.

By the way, don't bother following the the link in that post for the Simi Sara show. It no longer works. Ms. Sara still does a show there, and she was wonderful to talk to. I have the audio of those appearances in my collection.

What I remember about the day are bits and pieces. I remember seeing if the station needed me that night (and they thought my being there would be a good thing). It was, after all, a Monday, so I was ostensibly coming in to do The Press Box.

Kato, CJ, and Ryan all stayed home. I can't even imagine what the night would have been like had they all come in. As we found out hours later, travel was very much discouraged. Jim Fischer (Campbell) was told to not even bother to try to get to his house in Greenwich by a cop who stopped in around 11:30 that night.

I remember pulling my stuff together and stopping at Subway for lunch - other than a Nature Valley bar, it  was the last thing I would eat. The ladies in there said that they would be open for a little longer after I left. They also didn't seem very chatty.

Things were calm at WGCH when I first got there. Yes, the calm before the storm. Then Mary Anne DeFelice called to say that she wouldn't be doing her show at 3:00 that day.

I stepped in, and it was game on. At first I tried to do business as usual. Talk about general things.  The pendulum would swing as the day went along, and by the time Darby Cartun left at 6:00, we were into full storm mode.

I remember being chided after I got off the air for not saying that the storm had been downgraded from a hurricane to a tropical storm (or superstorm) when I was on. I remember hearing that as Tony Savino, Bob Small, Jim, and I stood in a dark office just after the power went out.

I also remember that I did say that it was downgraded on the air. Such is life.

I remember phone calls - many of them. We took note of each outage that they reported. We reported as much as each caller passed along, and avoided rumors. We kept an eye on the power maps from the various companies.

I remember hearing about the big fire in Greenwich, near the water.

I remember not blowing up my air mattress, in part because I saw that Jim and Tony didn't have one, and I thought that would be obnoxious to me. Then, when we all called it a night, I couldn't blow mine up because power was out and batteries were dead.

I tossed and turned all night. The only thing still lit was a traffic light at the corner of Lewis and Mason Streets, just outside the studio. It ran on a backup for a short time until it, too, died.

I think, in the heart of the storm, I stepped outside once. I wanted to see what it was like. I'm sort of like that. I also wanted to make sure my car hadn't been damaged. I parked in a spot that kept it close to the building, and that was a conscious decision.

I sat around the office with Tony and Jim, and Bob eventually came in. I felt helpless and useless so I decided to head for home.

I remember a rumor that Dunkin Donuts was open on Putnam Ave (that's US 1, by the way). But indeed, that was a rumor.

Trees were down all over Greenwich as I started to drive home. Interstate 95 was technically closed, but nobody was stopped from entering the road. Best as I could tell, nobody was going to pull me over, but I kept my press credential handy in case. Traffic was very light.

The Saw Mill Parkway was closed at "the Hawthorne Circle," as old-timers still call it (it was once a traffic circle and was built into an interchange right around when I was born). Then again, the Saw Mill closes in a misty rain.

I remember there wasn't too much to clean in the yard when I got home. We were spared, and lucky. However, we had no power. Still, a very small price to pay.  I had enough battery power to keep the radios and flashlights going, and daylight gave me enough to keep things light.

I remember pacing in the yard as I spoke with Simi Sara on CKNW. Unless I'm sitting down, I tend to pace when I'm on the phone. Something about the movement, I guess.

I read. I'm pretty sure it was Marty Appel's pretty brilliant Pinstripe Empire. I might have finished it.

I remember telling myself that, if I needed to charge anything, I could jump in my car. Gas wasn't an issue...yet. We had some issues up our way but, ultimately, we got off easy, at least at first. I recall going to Lisa's eventually, and then seeing stations - even up near Poughkeepsie and Hyde Park, without gas. Still, it was nothing compared to other areas.

According to my post from last year, the power came back late in the night of October 30. Apparently around 11:00 or so. I remember doing what anyone does when power comes back: running around and fixing clocks, and turning off things that were left on.

Then I turned on the TV and looked at how lucky we were by comparison.

I remember there wasn't a football game to broadcast for a while. In fact, it was almost two weeks before high school football was played again in Connecticut.

In areas along the Hudson River, the Atlantic Ocean, and Long Island Sound, the destruction was intense. In lower Manhattan, there was flooding, especially down at the Battery. Places like Breezy Point and points along the Jersey Shore was devastated.

In New York City, the plan was to still hold the New York City Marathon, until smarter heads prevailed and realized that it was, simply, wrong.

Of course, there was loss of life as well.

I remember so much of it. Yet I can't say I remember it all.

1971 All-Star Game

The things you can find on YouTube are truly wonderful. Check this out from 1971: the opening of the broadcast on NBC. Watch and listen as Curt Gowdy, Tony Kubek, and Lindsey Nelson (all three Ford C. Frick Award winners) discuss the game.


The starting lineups are also introduced. Of particular interest to me is the part at 9:11. You see, that's where the public address announcer introduces Bobby Murcer. Here is Bobby Ray's first All-star intro, and it gets totally botched, right down to the lack of even showing him, or a graphic with his name on it. He trots out around 9:39. It takes until 13:52 to even see his face.

Oh, but the rest of this is pure gold. The headset that Lindsey Nelson wears, along with his godawful choice of blazer.  The zoom in and out on Gowdy and the way the shot of he and Kubek is laid over the background - first with Nelson, and then of just the field - are priceless.

This it pure 70's baseball at its finest.

And the National Anthem is fantastic. The whole crowd singing. Wonderful.

Not to be forgotten are the players. What an amazing collection. So many Hall of Famers assembled there.  Seaver, Mays, McCovey, Clemente, Killebrew, Carew, Yaz, Reggie, and on and on.

Plus two guys named Murcer and Munson.

And Joe Torre's amazing sideburns.

The full game broadcast is available also. Bobby Murcer comes up at 26:53 and collects his only All-Star hit. Of course, a bunch of homers were also hit that day, including a shot off the roof of old Tiger Stadium, hit by Reggie Jackson. The American League got the victory.

Some reading from Wilton and Greenwich

The program from Sunday's GHS HoF Banquet

On occasion, I like to highlight a few stories that I've worked on.

The first is in honor of Virginia "Ginny" Rico, the former principal of Cider Mill School in Wilton, who passed away back in June. I attended a memorial in her honor, and the story is here.

The second is from last week's Greenwich High School Hall of Fame Banquet. I wrote the story for the Greenwich Post. John Ferris Robben's fantastic pictures accompany the words.

That's all. Enjoy.

The Mall

Cloverleaf Mall, Richmond, VA. Photo courtesy of the fantastic, and currently inactive, Vintage Richmond website. I hope that the webmaster, a guy named "Jon" whom I  used to see in the mall a lot, gets back to doing his thing again soon.

There was a time when I loved that bastion of social activity known as "the mall." It didn't necessarily matter WHAT mall (although it sort of did*), but it had to be a mall.

*No, it did matter: you would take the Danbury Fair Mall over the Jefferson Valley Mall or - yikes - the Baldwin Place Mall. Or the Westchester Mall (and not the fancy Westchester that sits in White Plains, but the rag-tag one that was in Mohegan Lake).

Yet, still, it was the mall. It beat being at home.

So when I saw a friend post a link to this on the dreaded evil known as Facebook (such a double-edged saw FB is), I clicked with interest.

Pictures of mall...er...rats in the late 80's and early 90's? Oh yeah.

Let's face it: I was one. On Senior Cut Day (December 12, 1986), my crew and I gathered for breakfast. Then we went to Danbury. Of course, a guard asked if we were supposed to be in school and, I, as the oldest-looking and, generally, more mature of the group (scary as that sounds) replied: "They're with me. I'm in college."

"Where do you go?"

"Pittsburgh."

Such was life at the mall. We dated there. We made friends there. We had our own language. 

It was also fun to walk around malls - not just in my area, but in other areas. It was part of how I discovered what life was like. Sure there were a lot of the chains, but there was also a certain amount of local flavor to be found - stores that we didn't see back home.

I've walked so many, from Maine to Florida to Nevada to California.

This book, Malls Across America, looks pretty interesting.

Heck, I even worked in the retail publishing industry at one time, for two years, at Directory of Major Malls in the late-90's.

So, yeah.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Me, Chris Kaelin, Ryan DeMaria, in Danbury in 2011 (Paul Silverfarb photo)

This has been expected for some time. It needed to happen. It had to happen.

WGCH has been sold.

The early word is that my status, and the status of sports, is OK. I was told that I shouldn't be concerned about anything.

Of course, I haven't met the new owner yet, so all is speculation and on will be on a day-to-day basis.

We've upgraded our equipment, if you haven't heard. It is beyond clear, and beyond fantastic.

It gives me hope that new ownership will like what we do, and increase it.

Change is generally terrifying. But it can be good. It can be exciting.

I expect to be behind the mic tomorrow night when Greenwich plays at Trumbull (in what I'm told will be a crowded press box...oh I love high school football).

So, yeah, there's the news.

At the same time, the Business and Lifestyle Talk Radio Networks have been sold to a Dallas company. As I also worked for them (WGCH was owned by BTRN until Wednesday morning), the future there is a little more murky.

It's a time of transition. People leaving. New people coming.

And that's about all I can probably say about that.

Changing a Habit

Yep. Guilty (PS, Google came up with this. I normally abhor these dopey memes.)

When I took the position at the Bulletin, I knew my writing would be scrutinized like never before.

For the most part, I've been able to write in my voice. Reporting isn't what commenting is (I still think I make a better columnist) but that's not the gig.

So I report. I write with the professional voice. I use "Mr. Smith " instead of using the last name. I deal with the other format and grammatical things because that's the proper style.

I don't use "transported" and some of the other words that are like the proverbial fingernails on the blackboard to my editor. Of course if I do, they get deleted.

There's still one thing that I've had to change about my writing. The stupidest, smallest thing.

The number of spaces after a period.

I don't know why (who knows how these things happen?) but I was one to write with two spaces. Not so, says the editor, publisher, and even some online debate (yep, I Googled it). One is the loneliest number.

So, yes, even here, I'm trying to use one space between sentences. It will take some time (I still have to edit it in my professional writing) but I'm trying to get used to it.

Stopped

"If you start with 'it was a dark and stormy night,' you won't go wrong. It works for Snoopy." - Tim Parry, 10/8/13

Greetings.

Please don't be offended, but I'm using you, or more precisely, the bloggy.  You see, I'm trying to finish a story for the Wilton Bulletin - today is deadline day - and I'm stuck.  Something about this one has not inspired me.

It's not the subjects fault. Not even close. It's just that my audio is suspect and I can't seem to wrap my head around the topic.

Trust me when I say that it's not rocket science I'm writing about. No, hardly.  Not brain surgery.

So here we are - a little after 7:00 on this morning. 

I've been asked how I find the time to keep even a semblance of the blog alive, and the answer is that I often use it to generate my creative juices. So while I don't write here nearly enough, I squeeze a few minutes to throw something together, normally on Thursday or Friday. There's something about it - writing creatively and for the sheer hell of it - that seems to soothe me.

I would do it more while sitting at my desk, but well, no.  The truth is, while I'm currently sitting at home and stuck, I tend to write my best at the library, in Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, or anywhere other than the office where I can get some wifi.

Now, off the bench...

There's no doubt I have little to no love for the Boston Red Sox, but I'll take anything that gives us drama.  So while I wanted the Rays to win, I mostly wanted that series to go the maximum number of games.

While we're at it: GO PIRATES.

I looked at the score...Sharks 9, Rangers 2. I looked again. Sheesh. It's just one game, of course, but wow.  Only three games into the season though.

Last night's League of Denial on PBS's Frontline was some of the most compelling sports-related television you will ever watch. Find a copy of it if you haven't seen it. It just might change the way you feel about football.

I think, ultimately, that football will find better equipment and safety precautions, but it's going to be touch-and-go for a while. We'll get close to being two-hand touch, but the NFL is just too powerful.

One other thing: the Steelers play a big part, directly and indirectly, in the documentary. Four players are featured, and there are other mitigating pieces. I'm not saying the Steelers are a blame in this - they're no worse than any other team - but it was still jarring.

Who looks the worst, besides owners? Many of the NFL doctors and, most of all, two men.

Paul Tagliabue and Emperor Roger Goodell.

Awful. A lot of (metaphorical) blood on their hands.

Shameful.

John Lennon would have been 73 years old today.

We still all shine on, but we could probably also use a Revolution.

The US government is an embarrassment. This shutdown just goes on. It's not "an Obama thing." It's a government thing. Republicans look really bad here. At the same time, I hold everyone accountable.

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

Oh, and it's Hump Day.

WHA WHAAAAAAAAT?  HUMP DAY...YEAH!

And with that, maybe I feel inspired again.

A Picture Says a Lot

While driving back from covering a story today in Wilton, I saw this sign at Weir Farm, a National Historic Site.

I'd post a link to their website, but that's shut down as well. (Have a look at what it says today - 10/4/13)

I can't even begin to express the rage that I feel. As a country, we should be pissed.  Absolutely furious.

Can you imagine traveling to Washington, DC, or the Statue of Liberty, or Yellowstone?  You're all set for a vacation and you pull up and see a sign like this.  Your vacation plans - the money - all shot down the tubes because of pettiness and brilliant incompetence.

The government isn't going to reimburse you for the your lost wages, or the time you took off from work.

Fire them all?  Of course, we've know it's not possible, but my god something has to be done.  We - THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - are looking like a joke to the outside world.

We can't get our junk together.  Instead we have Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Tx) recite Green Eggs and Ham.  We've got this stooge berating a Park Ranger for doing her job - the job HE voted for (thanks, Sal).  We've got World War II vets saying "screw this" and pushing past the barricades.

How DARE they barricade us from the monuments and memorials?  I understand that buildings - the Smithsonian and so on - need to be closed (not that I agree, even remotely), but the World War II Memorial?  IT'S A MONUMENT.  Leave it open and get on with it.

I'll go one further - my sister is going to France.  She leaves tonight.  One of her goals - hell, one of MY goals - is to visit Normandy.  This is supposed to be her chance.

IT'S F**KING CLOSED.  Closed. Shut. Fermer (which is supposed to be "closed down or shut" in French)

Let that sink in again.  Think about it.

HOW.

EFFING (I really want to curse here but just can't bring myself to).

DARE.

THEY?

If that doesn't infuriate you then I'm not sure what else to say.

People aren't working.  They're either being furloughed or having their money "delayed."  Of course, the bills won't be delayed, but the government doesn't give Martin Van Buren's ass about that.

It's nuts.

Talking Heads - The Pittsburgh Pirates Edition

Last night, for the first time in 21 years, there was postseason baseball in a place called Pittsburgh.

You may have heard of it.  They have six gleaming Lombardi Trophies there, win by a team called the Steelers.

They once had a fairly proud baseball heritage, but not a whole lot of winning.  They have five World Series titles (1909, 1925, 1960, 1971, 1979) and became, essentially, an embarrassment of a franchise.  After 1992, they didn't play above .500 until this year.

So you would think, given the excitement of seeing the 'Burgh reemerge as a baseball town, that TBS (broadcasting last night's wild card game against Cincinnati) would want to let you get a sense of how great it was.

No.

Instead, we get the continued tradition of worthless pregame banter by (no doubt) talented talking heads in a studio - or even on a set in the ballpark.

Who...the bleep...cares?

Seeing the introduction of these players helps allow us - the viewers - to meet them, especially if we've never seen them.  It allows us to get a sense of what it's like to be there.  Then the National Anthem, which was only sung by Pirates center field Andrew McCutcheon's MOTHER, brings the different emotions.  Then the ceremonial first pitch.

That's the pageantry.  The buildup.  The job that TV is supposed to play - to help us understand what it's like to be there.

It's been going on for years.  In countless postseason games at Yankee Stadium, we watched as the ceremonies took place before air time, god forbid Jeanne Zelasko or Matt Vasgersian might have some brilliant nugget that their producer wants to throw at us.

It's not their fault, of course, but somebody somewhere is making awful decisions.  They're forgetting what the fans want to see.

I guarantee you NOBODY in Pittsburgh (or Cincinnati) was in front of their TV going, "Great point, Keith! Can we have another one?"

It's ponderous.  The same goes for radio.  Crowd noise, with a public address announcer introducing each player, is wonderful.

You want your pregame? Change your start time.  Then babble all you want.

Incidentally, the brilliant Amanda Rykoff has more on this, including videos and tweets, over at Awful Announcing.

Roger and 61

It was on this day, October 1, in 1961, that Roger Maris did what some had tried to do but could not: break Babe Ruth's single-season home run record.

Maris, in more games than Ruth, passed the Babe with home run number 61, on a 2-0 fastball from Red Sox righty Tracy Stallard.  Of course, that earned him an "asterisk" that never really was next his record as was believed.  Eventually, it was cleared up by baseball that the record really was his, no matter how many games it took.  In light of steroids accusations, many believe the record still belongs to Maris.

It took years for Raj to ever get his fair share.  Just a quiet guy from North Dakota, he never wanted the spotlight, and couldn't win the fans over who wanted Mickey Mantle to break the record.  Roger needed Mickey, as a teammate to challenge him, and to help him in the lineup.

Mickey needed Roger, as a roommate to help calm down a little of #7's partying ways.

They were an unlikely, but perfect pair.

Few ever had a bad word to say about Roger.  He was a wonderful ballplayer, who got overlooked for hitting the 61 home runs.  He was more than that.  He was a two-time MVP, a brilliant base runner, and a special outfielder with a good arm.

Oh, Roger was much more than 61 in 61.  But it's nice that he has that legacy.  It's what keep people remembering him, for sure.  A curse, as much as a blessing.

He died, far too young, at 51 in 1985 of cancer.  Bob Costas, at the close of the NFL postgame on NBC that day, remembered him.

Motorcycle Mania

Something went really wrong in New York on Sunday.  A pack of motorcyclists had a confrontation with a father driving a Range Rover on the West Side Highway (aka, NY Route 9A) with his wife and child. 

From the YouTube video that has been posted, it appears they surround the SUV in what appears to be a confrontational manner.  One cuts in front of him and and slows down enough to have the SUV bump him.

What started it? I have no idea.  I don't know the full story.

Here's the story as written by the Daily News.  The YouTube video is included.

Crazy.  Slightly scary.  Pretty missed up.

Classy Sunday

(Photo by Shanna)

With great thanks to Shanna for the best ticket upgrade of my life, Kris and I (and Shanna) enjoyed the incredible Mariano Rivera retirement ceremony on Sunday.  It was a day of pure class, from Metallica (yes, they were classy) to the guests: Gene Michael, Jeff Nelson, John Wetteland, David Cone, Tino Martinez, Paul O'Neill, Joe Torre, Bernie, Williams, Jorge Posada, Rachel and Sharon Robinson, and the Rivera family.

Not to be forgotten was Andy Pettitte, who pitched his tail off, flirting with both a no-hitter and a perfect game, allowing two runs on two hits with one walk.

And he took the loss.  Ponderous.

(Shanna)

 Anyway, time (as usual) is short for me today, but I did want to throw a few pictures up.

The boys - Kris enjoys a rare beer (Shanna photo)

Metallica rocks The Bronx (Shanna)

Oh, and this guy made a video appearance.  Total class.

Andy Pettitte to Follow Mariano Rivera Into Retirement

The news is breaking from several sources - I'll give credit to WFAN, whom I saw tweet it earlier - that Andy Pettitte will announce his retirement today.

He is scheduled to start Sunday at Yankee Stadium, against the Giants.  That is also the same day as the farewell ceremony for Mariano Rivera. Pettitte will then start against the Astros in Houston and finish up a fine career.

It's the end of an era for sure.  The talk about Andy and the Hall of Fame has already begun.  To be certain, there are a few things: he was a wonderful big game pitcher.

He also used PED's, and owned up to it.

I guarantee that there are already PED users in the Hall, with more on the way.

So let's not be so myopic and say Pettitte isn't a Hall of Famer purely because of PED's.  Say he isn't an elite pitcher if you want.  That's your call.  There's no doubt that PED's will part of the narrative, but be fair about it at least, given that, as I said, there are already users in the Hall, with more on the way.

That's why the list of names should be released.  Once and for all.

Anyway, I'll enjoy watching Andy pitch Sunday, and saluting Mo at the same time.  It's going to be emotional in The Bronx.

With Jorge Posada have retired after 2011, and Andy and Mo leaving this year, the Core Four is down to one...

Ugh...One Rainy Night at Cardinal Stadium

The scene at Cardinal Stadium (courtesy Paul Silverfarb)

Does anyone remember when George Steinrenner, perfectionist nonpareil, issued an apology for the Yankees' performance in the 1981 World Series?  Of course, Boss George was roundly criticized for doing so, but he expected nothing less than victory from his beloved Bombers.

I feel that way after the most recent broadcast at Greenwich High School.

WGCH was in the house (Cardinal Stadium) for the Greenwich/West Haven kickoff to open the season.  Though I didn't get to the press box as early as I would have preferred, I still felt comfortable with enough time to setup shop.

I got to work; plug this here, put that there, assign this mixer pot to Chris Erway, I'll take pot number five, set something up for Matt "Stats" Bozzuto, and have the wireless mics ready to go for Tom "Sizemore" Prizeman and Paul Silverfarb.

Things soon fell apart, and fast.  We didn't have enough radios for guys to listen to the broadcast on the field.  The Marti - our transmission unit to send a signal back to the studio - wasn't working.  We'd have to go by cell phone and we didn't have the right clip to hook that up.

Turns out our antenna on top of Cardinal Stadium had been knocked down.  So while we were feeding the Marti, the Marti wasn't feeding the antenna...and couldn't send anything back to the studio.

We went with my iPhone.  Nope, that was a disaster also, as people could sort of hear me, basically not hear Chris at all, and mostly hear the public address announcer.

These were probably all things that an on-site engineer, whose sole purpose it is to fix these things, could fix.  Alas, I'm that guy.  You know, budget and all.  Except I'm doing 20 things at once.

Just to be sure, I'm hardly alone.  Many produce their own broadcasts.

On the field, they kicked off close to 10 minutes early.  That didn't help things.  In the studio, both Sean Kilkelly and Bob Small were calmly trying to assist by describing what they were hearing.

The problem was I needed help - there.  In the booth.

It took until halftime to work it out.  We simply needed time and we didn't have that.  It was all on the fly.

Greenwich had a 7-0, second quarter lead, before the Westies broke off two long runs to take a 13-7 lead at halftime.  We had our transmission problems fixed (still on via cell phone though) but I now had to hold the cell phone in my hand to keep from having ridiculous static on the line.

Tom couldn't really hear us on the field.  We didn't have a radio for Paul, so we had only one sideline guy.  Tom, to his infinite credit, was happy to be there, and would have understood if he just got to watch.  Paul, honestly, had his own hellacious day, so he was probably just as happy to pass on joining us.

Jason Intrieri, waiting patiently to do his FCIAC Insider report, didn't join us in the pregame and was ready to go at halftime, except that I was furiously trying to fix things.

Did I mention that there had been lightning strikes in the vicinity of Cardinal Stadium not too long after kickoff, and that almost all other games had been postponed?  In the second half, those strikes got closer, and eventually, with 8:33 to go in the third quarter, the officials halted the game.  They said they would reassess things within a half hour.

Now, in the booth, Tom and his dad, Ryan DeMaria (just there to watch), Chris, Matt, and me, along with assorted others, stood or sat shoulder to shoulder.  Dick Leonard stayed at his trusty public address microphone.  Evan Dubin (who thoroughly enjoyed an off-air meltdown of mine) was at the scoreboard controls.  Jason rejoined us to come on the air - having run back from the parking lot.

We did a 45-minute chat on things around football and so on.  It was, likely, the best part of the broadcast.  Of course, I did have a complaint email about the sound quality of the early part of the evening.

At 8:00, I broke for news and to go back to "regular programming" when we received the final word on the night.  Sean got me right back on the air.

The game had been officially suspended, and would be picked up Sunday at 1:00 (it's since been changed to 12:30).  "So we will talk you just before 1:00 on Sunday," I said. I wrapped up the broadcast when Sean told me, off the air, that WGCH had a Bridgeport Bluefish broadcast that would conflict with us.

At that point, what could I do other than laugh?  We've tape-delayed one football game since I started, and that was in 2000.  We've never, to my knowledge, missed airing a game.

(And yes, we are going to tape it and play it following the conclusion of the Bluefish)

The night had been an unqualified disaster.  It happens to all of us in the business.

But wait!  There's more.  Ryan informed me that, as he ran out of the stadium with Jason, he lost his wallet.  I looked and looked and looked - as rain continued to pummel - but couldn't find it.  Happily, Paul Silverfarb told me that the wallet had been found and was in the possession of the Greenwich Police Department.

I'm sure there is something that I've missed in this wacky tale (some of it on purpose), but darned if I can remember it.  In a week that I'd like to forget, this wasn't even the coda.  Earlier today, I got a call from someone I interviewed for a piece in the Wilton Bulletin.  Seems I attributed his quotes to the wrong person.  What can one do except apologize and fix it in the online edition?

Thankfully we have more football to cover this year to atone for everything (we're at Darien next Saturday).  So while we have a story to tell for the ages, we simply move on.

People watch me and ask why I continue to do it.  Some tell me to just walk away - it's bad for my health and so on.  But the "why" is simple.  I think I'm OK at it.  I care about it.  That's why I do get really frustrated/annoyed at times with the equipment, bureaucracy, etc.  I feel that we put on a really good broadcast and I have expectations. 

In the end, when it's all working, there are few places I'd rather be than in a broadcast booth.  I'm with my friends, and I'm near people that I get to see all too rarely.

Yet something was missing about opening night, 2013.  None of the buildup.  No butterflies.  No surge of emotion.  

It was a night when just about everything - for everyone - went wrong.  I feel like I should apologize to everyone for it.

Just like Boss George.

Peter Mansbridge and September 11

We know the narrative pretty much by heart now.

September 11, 2001.  8:46 am.  Four airplanes.  Nearly 3000 dead in New York, Virginia, and Shanksville, PA.

The memories are so vivid.  Certain details get lost in the passage of time, but the major points can't be forgotten.

For me, the day is etched.  It was amazing weather.  The first plane struck right around the corner or Routes 139 and 100 near Katonah, NY as I drove to Greenwich.  I was listening to Don Imus.  The second one hit as I was on Interstate 684.  I had turned to WCBS news radio 880.

I listening, watched, and read.  Everybody had - and still has - a story to tell.

September 11 turned to September 12 and, like many, I was up very early.  I was awakened by a low-flying aircraft (I always forget what kind it was) around 4:30 or so, and stayed up.  Moments later, after retrieving the newspaper from the edge of the driveway, I was right back in front of the TV, and listening to the radio.

Later that evening, after I went and did "Tee Time" with Michael Breed on WGCH, I returned home and watched as cameras were focused on the Empire State Building, with the news that a bomb scare was going on.  The camera focused just as it did on the World Trade Center towers the day before.

It was at that moment that I needed a time out.  I was done.  If the Empire State Building did come down, well, I don't know.  It just felt like it would be too much.  But I still needed to stay in touch with the story.

I don't remember which channel it was - I think it was C-Span, maybe PBS, it doesn't matter - was carrying coverage from CBC, the Canadian Broadcast Corporation.  After days of Peter Jennings, Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather, along with cable and local broadcasters, I began watching the Canadian broadcast.

Enter Peter Mansbridge, anchor of The National, Canada's answer to our nightly news programs.

Like the others, he seemed very much the prototypical network news anchor.  Warm, authoritative, trusting.

I don't even remember what he said that worked for me, but whatever it was, it was effective. For some reason, it seemed less - this might not be the right word - hyperbolic.  Something about Mansbridge and the CBC team was calming.  You can say it was because they weren't attached to the story, but to a point they were, as of course, they're our neighbors and, many of the grounded planes on September 11 had to land in Canada.

Peter Mansbridge

 I was still able to get the news.  Eventually I returned to watching everything, but I'll never forget the work of Mansbridge, who became anchor of The National in 1988.

So when I think about September 11, many images flash in my memory.  Many names come to my mind.

Peter Mansbridge is one of those names.

As always, I will listen to Bruce's The Rising today.  If you feel like you can stand listening to it, here is the montage of audio I assembled after events of September 11, 2001.  I post it as a tribute to the lives lost.

Scott Fujita's New Orleans

Sean in Jackson Square, New Orleans, March, 2006.

There's a really nice piece on Fox Sports today from former New Orleans Saints linebacker Scott Fujita about his recruiting visit to New Orleans in March, 2006.

The visit came not quite six months after Hurricane Katrina had pummeled the Crescent City.

Scott's memories are quite evocative.  He spoke of how strange the city looked and how decimated it was.  The only thing is, I have a few different memories.

I, too, was there in March, 2006. My great-niece, Kendall, was being baptized there.

She was born in Texas in October, 2005 - the result of Katrina scattering people out of New Orleans.  Her parents, (her mother is my niece, Laura) were down there in the Navy.  They left their base in Belle Chasse and went to Texas.  Upon their return to Louisiana, they suffered minimal damage, only losing some food and fish, if memory serves.

Personally, I've always been fond of New Orleans.  I first visited it in December, 1975, but a seven-year-old really doesn't "get" NOLA.  My next trip wouldn't be until December, 2003 when I came back to attend the baseball Winter Meetings.  My mom and my niece, Stephanie, came along to see Laura.

Then came Katrina.  Like many, I watched whatever I could on TV.  Then I read.  I listened to streaming radio, mostly of WWL, the big AM news station.  I recognized so many of the places being shown, including the convention center, whose halls I had walked roughly two years earlier.

Laura wanted Kendall to be christened, and we all wanted to be there.  She delayed it until March, when it was hoped that things would be somewhat better.

They were.  Slightly.

Things were good in the French Quarter.  Oh, not great, and let's be clear about that.  But there were places to eat, like the Crescent City Brewhouse, where I had gumbo and jambalaya for dinner on our first night.  Pat O'Brien's was still open to get a Hurricane.  Bourbon Street was, well, Bourbon Street (and, yes, we had Sean with us, but it's fairly tame in the daylight hours).

Cafe Du Monde was cranking out great coffee and beignets.  These were just some small signs that life would go on in The Big Easy.

The casino was open as well, and many hotels and other businesses had returned.  The zoo was also open.  New Orleans, ravaged by a storm, politics and, one might say, the government, was trying to put on a happy face.

The picture I took of Sean, in Jackson Square,  makes New Orleans look pretty good, right?

Now the outlying areas were a pretty different story.  Things were hit and miss, for instance, down LA Route 23 towards where the baptism would be held.  I recall finding a Subway that was open for lunch.  Oakwood Shopping Center, which I stayed next to in 2003, was closed and took a long time to rebuild.  The Riverwalk Mall, near the convention center, was open but eerily empty.  No food tenants were open.  A few stores were.

Just outside, a streetcar line was deserted, but the gate was down and the crossing lights flashed as the bell rang out.  Constantly.

It was like a ghost streetcar was coming by, with Marlon Brando yelling "STELLA!"

(Sorry, cheesy reference)

That was where the devastation hit me the most, because I had spent so much time in the Riverwalk area a few years earlier.  It was sad.

Tolls weren't being collected on the Crescent City Connector (Business Route US 90).  Many downtown traffic lights worked.  But many didn't.

From the air, the blue tarps that were on everyone's houses were abundant.  It was a stark introduction, enough that a passenger on the plane with us made note of it.  I remember getting a rental car - all they had were mini-vans - and it smelled.  But, really, who could possibly complain?

We stayed in the Country Inn and Suites on Magazine Street.  It amazed me, considering the looting and everything else, what fabulous shape this place was in. 

The devastation was apparent though.  The first view of the Louisiana Superdome - which I remembered seeing for the first time in '75 (it had opened only a few months earlier), and then in '03 - was remarkable.  A banner stretched across the front promised the Saints (and the NFL) would be back.  It would, with the Saints beating the Falcons 23-3.

It was a strange trip; that gathering in 2006.  The smells, the sadness, he destruction and yet the smiles and good natures.  Only a mile or so away from the French Quarter is the Lower Ninth Ward, the site of some of the worst Katrina and levee breaches left behind.  Thanks to media coverage and a Spike Lee documentary, we all know just how bad the Ninth Ward was hit.  As I drove Interstate 10, I could see, in the distance, how bad it looked.

I couldn't - I wouldn't - drive into the neighborhood.  The last thing they needed was some nosy New Yorkers.

Other areas were hit very hard.  Lakeview, Metarrie, Plaquemines Parish, Algiers, and so on.  The names became familiar.  So did the faces of the politicians.

It was an ugly time.

Scott Fujita made it his home, despite what he saw.

I haven't been back since.  But I've wanted to go again.

Boyle Stadium's New Look

Scott Ericson, now of the Stamford Advocate and formerly of the Greenwich Time, tweeted this:

Stamford and Bethel scrimmaging. New SHS press box in the background. #CTHSFB pic.twitter.com/D0pUycvV1F
— Scott Ericson (@EricsonSports) September 4, 2013

(PS, congrats to Scott on the new gig.  Nice guy, and I'm happy for him.)

Paul Silverfarb and I had just talked about this a few days ago.  We ranked the FCIAC football facilities from 1-18.  There are 19 teams, but Bassick and Bridgeport Central share Kennedy Stadium (bad turf, big facility, bad concessions, love the view from the press box, which is a long walk to reach).

I hesitate to list all 18 as, nice guy that I try to be, I don't necessarily want to rip any particular facilities.  Some are rough - bad press box, field, parking, etc.  Some are wonderful.  It's fair to keep in mind that education is priority number one, so their athletic facilities aren't high on the list.

Boyle Stadium in Stamford is, to me, the cradle of FCIAC football.  It's where the Championship should always be.  It should be returned there, at once.

But...I'm worried about this new press box.  I know the old one was falling down, but I loved calling games from there.  Whether I was sitting in the general area, or tucked into the side booth that I got to use a few times, there was nothing like Boyle.  The view was great.  While everything is this era can often be sterile, Boyle was big, concrete, and rough around the edges.

They've made smart updates to it, such as the field, and that was much-needed.  The turf had turned to concrete.

This new press box, Scott reports, is only accessible from outside the stadium.  Unique, certainly, but not entirely uncommon.  I've been to a few of those.  It's also on the opposite side of the old press box.

Sadly, Boyle is not on the calendar for me in 2013.  Yet.

But I hope it will be.

So, how did I rank the fields of the FCIAC?  I will say, obviously, that Boyle is #1, followed by Dunning Field in New Canaan, with Casagrande Field in Norwalk, Crotty Stadium in Danbury, and McDougall Stadium in Trumbull rounding out my top 5.  I took everything into account: game experience, press box, concessions, parking, cell phone service, staff, and more.

It's not very scientific, of course.  I've called at least one game in every current FCIAC footbal facility, with one exception: Tetreau-Davis Field in Fairfield (Fairfield Warde*).  That will be rectified in 2014, when the Cardinals play there.

* I originally wrote "Ludlowe" instead of "Warde" for Tetreau-Davis Field.  My bad.  Thanks to Tim Parry for politely correcting me.  I knew what I was writing at the time, and yet my fingers STILL typed the wrong word.  It happens.

As for Cardinal Stadium, well, it's home, but it's flawed.  The press box is small (try fitting two broadcasting outlets in there - we do it, but it's a chore) but it does have heat and air conditioning.  The view is unique in that I have to adjust if the action is near the east end zone.  I've been known to lean out the window to my right - even sit there.  The lights...well...the lights (looong story) and the turf is looking long in the tooth.

Of course, given the fights that were waged for the lights and the Cardinals Nest (where the concession stand is), we won't even get into the lack of restrooms.

I guess what I'm saying is that I love Cardinal Stadium.  Like I said, it's home.  But it could be so much more and, I'm willing to bet, those who call it their field would love that as well.

Oh I'm not complaining about any of this.  I'm happy to have these things to talk about, and love that we're just a week away from kicking off the 2013 season.

Thought for the Day

That's right.  For better or for worse, the second Ron Burgundy movie is coming in December.  And so, to revive Thought for the Day (aka TftD), I felt I must pay tribute to the great Anchorman.

"He had a voice that could make a wolverine purr and suits so fine they made Sinatra look like a hobo. In other words, Ron Burgundy was the balls."

Bart Palosz and the Sickness of Bullying

From Bart Palosz's Google+ site

If you haven't seen the story of Bart Palosz, then read what my friends and colleagues Ken Borsuk and Kait Shea wrote at the Greenwich Post website.

This story - of a 15-year-old Greenwich High School student who chose to end his life, perhaps due to bullying* - is chilling.  His Google + feed read with the thoughts of a troubled young person.  I won't post the link to it, but I read it and it sickened me.

He talked, quite openly, about killing himself.

* All of the facts aren't out, but there is enough chatter to suggest that it's real.  The investigation is continuing.  Whether that is the reason or not, it should serve as a wake up call regarding bullying.

It won't.  But it should.

Bullying happens - everywhere.  It happens - at every age.  It's nothing to screw around with.

This story is just, well, what can you say?

The signs HAVE to be taken seriously.  He talked of killing himself.

Then he did.

If Greenwich schools aren't doing enough about bullying, as I've heard charged, then let's hope they do something.  But it goes deeper than the administration.  It has to go down to all levels.  Staff and students.

Stand up to it.

Stop it.

Now.

Another Thursday

Well here we are.  Another Thursday.

It's kind of become my day to jump on here and say "what's up?"

Or maybe it's my opportunity to say: "What day was yesterday?"


Hump DaayyYY...YEAH!

Thanks to Harold, we have this GREAT two-part documentary about Action Park, which to be honest, I never felt concerned about.  Apparently tons of people got injured there.  I laughed with friends, got bounced around on the rides, played mini golf and arcade games, and met girls.

I don't see a problem there.  But, apparently, I was one of the lucky ones.

In hindsight, watching these videos, it's AMAZING that my parents let me go there.  I don't think my dad, who was an avid newspaper record, ever saw anything about how bad it was.

Documentary Part 1
Documentary Part 2

A friend of mine was struggling with the notion that his kids were starting kindergarten.  Sean went and did a walk-through at middle school today.  I was along for that.

Time flies, without a doubt.

Vin is Back For Year 65

We're lucky, aren't we?  In baseball broadcasting, we are fortunate to know that the very best who has ever grasped a microphone, Vincent Edward Scully, will be back for his 65th season in 2014.

Vince, Vinny, Vin - they all apply - first stepped into Red Barber's booth in 1950, plucked straight off the streets of Washington Heights and into Ebbets Field.  The redhead from Fordham worked his way up to being the Dodgers' top man and made the move with the Bums from Brooklyn to Los Angeles following the 1957 season.

Though he once had the chance to return to New York and become the Yankees play-by-play voice, reuniting him with Barber, Scully stayed in LA where he became a fixture, a legend, and an icon.

Yes, we're very lucky.  Lucky to have heard his very brilliance.  Lucky to have had that greatness still around.  Lucky to have a reminder that, after all of the "look at me" broadcasters, and those who just aren't very good, there's still Scully, calling games the way Barber taught him.

He's 85.  Of course there's an occasional gaffe (jeez, don't we all make them) but otherwise, he's still better than anyone working.

Think about it: earlier this year, we had Mariano Rivera, closing out a game at Dodger Stadium.  In the booth, calling the action, was Vin Scully.  Two of the very best at their respective positions.  That's pretty good.


I beg, plead, and implore all broadcasters to listen to him.  He still does the first three innings of Dodgers home games on both TV and radio.  The rest are TV only.  To me, Major League Baseball would be very wise to have a "Scully" channel, so that we can all hear the great one do it as it should be done.  Scully highlights should be readily available.

He's too modest, of course.  He hates the attention.  He doesn't like the movement to get him to call some World Series action - even when he's the very guy we all want to hear.  But it's not his thing.  Heck, he didn't like Curt Smith writing a book about him back in 2009.

Some guy was wise enough to put together a collection of highlights (yes, it was me, and I've seen many websites use it since then).

Of course, there are just too many highlights.  All of the no-hitters.  The World Series games.  The legendary players.  The All-Star Games.  The priceless moments.  The great quotes.

We are lucky.  We get to listen to Vin Scully in 2014.  We should also be thankful.

Huey Lewis and the News on Long Island

If I didn't mention it (and I didn't), I saw Huey Lewis and the News for the 11th time last week.  The free concert, in East Meadow, NY, was, er, sort of seen and heard by me, Sean (his first concert!), the Mighty Mick, and Gretchen the Great.

It was a great night.  The weather was wonderful.  I was with people I truly love.  We had a nice dinner.  We all had fun.

But.

Well, this is what happens with a free concert.  If you weren't in the park and claimed a spot by, say, 5:00, you were pretty much out of luck, in terms of seeing the show.  We sat at the top of the hill, but couldn't see the stage.  The music was audible, but not strong.

The band, of course, was awesome.  Nothing different there.

Knowing that a large crowd would be looking to get out, we actually left early.

I know, I know.  I never leave early.  Well, I rarely leave early.  But I also know how the show ends.  In fact, I knew the setlist.

Long story short, the idea of making Sean and my friends sit in crazy traffic because I wanted to see the end of the show made no sense.  Instead, we were out within about 20 minutes, and it was worth it.

But don't think that the concert was a bust.  Oh, geez, hardly.

First, selfishly, I finally saw the boys on the Sports Tour.  But I missed them in '84, and saw them on the Live in '85 Tour.  Now, granted, this was the 30th anniversary tour, but this T-shirt still made me smile. 

Oh yeah, and I was in the men's room when the show started.  This was unlike any HLN show I had ever been to.  It was more like a Huey Lewis picnic!  People were walking in with pizzas.  They had little tables set up.  Drinks?  Yeah, nobody was stopping that either.  But, still, who better to picnic with than Huey, Johnny, Bill, Sean, JP, James, Marvin, Rob, and Johnnie?

Sean and I grabbed a look at the stage during "The Heart of Rock and Roll."

Huey's to the right of the drums, playing the harmonica.

The setlist, you ask?  Let's start by doing the Sports album in order (from "The Heart of Rock and Roll" to "Honky Tonk Blues"):

1) The Heart of Rock and Roll
2) Heart and Soul
3) Bad is Bad
4) I Want a New Drug
5) Walking on a Thin Line
6) Finally Found a Home
7) If This is It
8) You Crack Me Up
9) Honky Tonk Blues
10) While We're Young (a new song...love hearing new HLN)
11) Trouble in Paradise (still sounds great, from the first album, but the version from '85 at the old Kabuki Theatre in San Francisco still kicks ass).
12) Some Kind of Wonderful
13) But It's Alright
14) We're Not Here For a Long Time, We're Here for a Good Time (to end the main set)
15) The Power of Love (they've done it every night for 28 years! In fact, it's the first song I ever heard them play live - in Middletown, NY).
16) Do You Believe in Love
17) Workin' for a Livin'

We left as "Do You Believe in Love" was being played.  It just made sense to get out.  Had we been closer, I would have stayed and dealt with the traffic.  The sound wasn't great, and we couldn't see.  Plus people were talking, etc.  But, hey, it was free, so who can complain?  But in this case, it was logical to go, have dinner, and head for home.

In case you think I'm crazy, this was our view of the stage...

Keep in mind, this is while the show is going on.  I overheard a few people say that this was more people than they expected.  I'd have to agree.  WCBS-FM (101.1) promoted the heck out of the show, and Long Island (and Putnam County) responded!

At least we had fun...

I grabbed Sean's hand during "We're Not Here For a Long Time..." and took him for a better view.  We stood there as they got ready for the "encore" and I knew what was coming.  "The Power of Love" kicked in and Sean was dancing.

If you need any validation of this being a great night, you now have it.

Trust me, this made it all worth it. (Excuse the quality of the video - I should have just converted it to audio only, but you get the sense of how Sean and I were rocking out).


Cool.  Very cool.

So, really, I can't complain.  It was all good.

And, with any luck, the boys will be back again.