Royal "Off The Bench" Thoughts

"You look amazing, said Harry. "I'm so lucky." (Photo: WPA Pool, Getty Images)

I had no intention of watching the Royal Wedding yesterday morning. I mean, I have nothing against the House of Windsor, and sort of admired Diana, and think Harry and William seem fine, and yet? Nah. I didn't think I'd watch.

I was wrong. I woke up around five, not planning to watch it, but the tweets sucked me in, and soon I has CBS on.

First mistake.

Went to NBC next. It was OK, but no.

I decided on "the beeb," aka the BBC, and it was perfect. They didn't fawn (OK, maybe a little) and it became perfectly fine in the background as I woke up and began prepping for a lacrosse game later in the day.

On social media, many denounced the event as unnecessary and made references to us gaining our independence over 200 years ago.

Look, I can be as snarky as anyone. For instance, I'd rather silence than the Billboard Music Awards or American Idol or The Voice or whatever other dreck is on.

That being said, what was the harm of the wedding? Yes, you didn't watch it. Great. There are a lot of things I don't get the appeal of.

Still, despite the tweets and Facebook comments, the one thing I couldn't get was why not embrace it or just let it go?

Think about it: just Friday -- the day before the wedding -- we had another awful school shooting. Ten are dead. Around here, we had a pretty horrific school bus crash in New Jersey and a series of bad storms, with a tornado thrown in. Both of those events featured loss of life, plus my friends and family actually watched the tornado go by.

See what I'm driving at? We could use a little good old-fashioned romance.

I realize there were a bunch of phonies at the affair, but I smiled at thought of true love. The skeptic in me -- the snarkado in me -- took the day off.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Tweet what you want, of course.

It was a benign fairy tale, given so much bad in the world.

*****
The Vegas Golden Knights are going to the Stanley Cup Final, and it's pretty cool.

As someone who loves a good story, Vegas being four wins away from the Cup works.

I would have been fine with the Winnipeg Jets advancing, given a Canadian team hasn't won the magic chalice since 1993. Yes. That's correct.

I'm sort of hoping the Washington Capitals could make it, so that Alex Ovechkin (The Great Eight) can play for his first Cup, but with all of the former New York Rangers on the Tampa Bay Lightning, I can't complain.

Oh, and Doc Emrick calls the Finals. So let's make it seven and we all win.

But...there's a belief that the NHL has rigged it so that Vegas -- a first-year expansion team -- can get to the Finals.

Um. What?

My man Mike Hirn -- Ohio's finest -- was just as baffled as I was at the idea of the fix being in.

Want a fix? Get the New York Rangers to the Finals. Then the NHL can market all day!

But the idea of the NHL being fixed for Vegas is just wrong.

*****
I've long thought about ranking all play-by-play announcers in Yankees history. The thing is, I think I know the bottom two, and have a sense of the top five. It's the in-between that makes it tough.

*****
Biting my tongue has never been my strong suit. But please know that I'm trying. Really trying.

And I'll often fail.

*****
There are a variety of sports broadcasting tidbits to get to, such as how much I enjoyed being in Waterbury a few weeks ago with Tim Parry. We called Nonnewaug and Gilbert baseball at Municipal Stadium.

Tim operates his exceptional Just Woodbury site, and it should be a go-to for your news needs in that area (and beyond).

We need people who bring integrity to reporting. Integrity is questioned more than ever. I've said for too long that Susan and company at Darien Times should be your stop there.

Again. Integrity. And that brings respect.

*****
I can't say with enough certainty how much I've enjoyed covering Brunswick School sports this year. Football, hockey, basketball, baseball, and lacrosse.

Lacrosse, you say? Why yes -- at last check, the third best lacrosse team. Period. Not regionally. Not in a conference. Not even in the United States.

Third best. That's it.

After covering Wick for 20 years, I'm actually known around there, and it's a great joy.

I'll finish with the Brunswick baseball team in the FAA Championship tomorrow. Few coaches treat me better than Johnny Montanez.

Which calls to mind another point: the amount of great coaches I work with (and have worked with). Right now, it's Ron Van Belle and Steve Juricek and Montanez and Jared Shine and John Marinelli and Chris Rurak. As a sample.

And Leo Redgate at Fairfield Prep was great to me. Sorry to see him out of there. That's one sharp basketball mind.

Also the Mahopac High School baseball crew, including Myckie Lugbauer, Shaun McGee and Anthony Nappi.

Speaking of baseball coaches, Mike Mora is working his magic again at Greenwich High, as the Cardinals have made the FCIAC playoffs.

There are so many coaches to highlight. They do a great job.

Note to parents: Let them do that job.

*****
I've actually started looking at the football schedules. I'm proud that at least five teams are interested in having me around to call their play-by-play. It's humbling, to say the least.

My schedule could start in August, but that doesn't mean I'll be quiet in the summer.

So...who wants some broadcasts?

*****
Happy 72nd birthday, Bobby Ray Murcer. The Yankees treat you like a forgotten name, and you don't deserve that. If only they had this place to honor great players, broadcasters, executives and so on to recognize your years in the organization.

Anyone Can Do It

The Robcasting Radio banner hanging at a recent Mahopac High School game. (Not representative of the story I'm telling)

I recently called a high school game.

The site isn't important. Nor is the sport. To protect certain things, I won't give too much detail.

But holy cow, it's a cautionary tale.

Perched on the roof of a press box, I prepared to broadcast the game in question. Thanks to traffic, my arrival was much later than I would have preferred, but I didn't panic, and set about getting ready. Though I lacked a roster for one of the teams, I knew I could make it all work.

** Quick side note: We are literally begging for accurate rosters to be made available. Twice in the past week, I've had to fudge my way through a game where details weren't available and only had last names. In this era, that is simply unacceptable. In this game, I asked in the press box for a roster. Nothing. I looked around. Nada. Nobody was willing to help. I walked to the scorers table, where I took a picture of the scorebook, and worked off what I had. It was better than nothing, and I relied on what I could overhear for the rest of the details. Accurate (keyword) rosters in numerical order shouldn't be this difficult. In fact, it should be mandated.

Keep the roster thing in mind through the balance of this story.

Standing a few feet away from me were a few student broadcasters. OK, I'm all for that, and always happy to help. But in this case, I had to hurry to even get on the air. After dashing to the field to get any semblance of a roster, I literally started the game out of breath, and let the action on the video speak for itself.

I could overhear the young broadcasters nearby.

"Number eight to number 23 to number two."

Ugh.

Still I concentrated on my own call and got to a break.

With the students was an advisor/teacher who was clearly in charge. She stayed positioned in the booth while her young charges exploded out to do whatever they needed to get to.

"Would they like a roster," I asked?

"They would love one," came the reply.

Silly me, I felt that there would be a sharing of information -- the same thing I've done with countless other play-by-play "voices." Matt Levine, Don Boyle, George DeMaio, and numerous others know exactly what I'm taking about. You're happy to share. You talk about strengths and weaknesses of teams. Maybe little notes. Pronunciations. Anything.

Nope.

As they returned to the booth, I offered to help.

"Who's the play-by-play voice?"

A hand went up. Didn't even look at me.

"Do you want a roster?"

"Nope. I'm good."

Wow.

Entitlement aside, do you suppose, if you really want to do this professionally, that you might want to have accurate information, or is it just about your school, and accuracy be damned?

Where in the name of Marty Glickman was integrity?

I was astounded, annoyed, and frustrated. I would have felt worse if I were their advisor.

There is this belief, in our modern information age, that "anyone" can do "anything." You can be a writer -- thus, a blog (and I'm 100% guilty but have tried so hard to do this honorably). You can be a broadcaster -- go to any one of a number of outlets for that. Hell, with a do-it-yourself video, you can be an auto mechanic, or something else.

Still there's something to be said for training, preparation (I do far more than believed, cha cha), and...well...pride, as well as the aforementioned integrity. Have some. Anything less than what I expect sends me into fits, and giving my absolute best exhausts me**.

** Another side note: Many times, after a game, I stand in a parking lot and talk to colleagues and friends, and here's why. It's not a "gripe" session, as has often been believed. Sure, there is an airing of grievances, but it's mostly because I'm so worn out that I'm trying to find the energy to drive home. That's all there is to it. Often, it's a sign that I don't want the night to end, and I also don't want to be sleeping in a parking lot to find said energy to drive home. Do you know how many times I've stayed in a stadium/arena/field to soak it in and summon the will to drive? Too many to count.

So, to recap, while you, young plebe, just climbs down from the press box post-game in search of the free food or the cute girl, I'm climbing back into my car for a drive that normally includes a loss of all adrenaline.

And replaying literally every moment of that broadcast. And telling my friends how much I sucked.

Ask me about the aftermath of Salisbury and Brunswick last Friday. With two of the top three lacrosse teams in the world in front of me, a large audience, and a great production crew, I felt a ton of pressure to have a great call. I gave it all I had, and despite a few goofs, I drove home completely worn out (and, rarely, slightly satisfied). A 90-minute ride through Litchfield and Dutchess counties made for a long trip.

But I slept knowing that I did my best. That I cared. That I had the utmost integrity.

You think anyone can do it.

I used to think that.

You're wrong.

Afraid to Talk

A (hopefully) innocuous picture of my setup at Brunswick for lacrosse.

I talk.

Sometimes for a living.

I'm responsible for my words, and occasionally I say things that get me in trouble for one reason or another. I get that it's the very nature of the beast, of course.

Yet sometimes we say things that aren't even remotely intended to be inflammatory, and yet...

Yet...

Take what happened to Brian Davis, play-by-play announcer for the Oklahoma City Thunder on Fox Sports Oklahoma. Davis, in his eighth year with the Thunder, used the phrase "cotton-picking mind" in relation to guard Russell Westbrook.

For that, he earned a one-game suspension and had to apologize.

No. That's not a joke. Here's the recap from Yahoo! Sports.

Given that we speak on the air extemporaneously for hours at a time, I would hope there would be a certain amount of understanding. However common sense must also be considered, and I'd like to believe most of us know there are a variety of words and phrases that shouldn't (and can't) be used.

I don't think I use "cotton-picking" in regard to anything, and I suppose I understand its "offensiveness" to a degree. I won't simply play the "That's Not/Is Racist!" card.

But a suspension? I'm not so sure about that. I think it would have been fair if Fox Sports Oklahoma said, "Look, Brian, we know you meant nothing by it, but it's an 'old school' term that can be construed as racist. Do us a solid and don't use it again, OK?"

There. All done.

Instead, this guy now has a stigma attached to him. It brought him attention that no broadcaster wants. Unfairly.

It can make many of us weary to talk or write.

To that very point, I was calling the New Canaan/Brunswick lacrosse game Saturday night. Now I recognize that the rights of Brunswick games are governed by Brunswick, since I'm there for them. So I do choose my words carefully to begin with, but I don't stand there and censor myself.

I use common sense.

Still, I brought up the topic of the Brian Davis suspension and didn't completely elaborate, except to say that viewers and listeners could find the story online.

Yes. I was nervous about saying the offending phrase.

Continuing with that, I felt a certain level of trepidation in bringing up Jackie Robinson, as it occurred to me that we were up against the 71st anniversary of his joining the Brooklyn Dodgers. Players all around baseball will wear the number 42 in honor of Robinson.

While it's a lovely and deserving gesture, I have never been in favor of it. Not because I'm "anti-Robinson." What Jackie did can't be measured. It's legendary, and the story needs to be told. Yet I feel that when the message is pushed with the "all-42 movement," things get lost.

So I feel I have a better idea. Each team should have one member -- anyone -- who exhibits the spirit of Jackie Robinson. That person should have the honor of wearing 42 that year on April 15. Then the team can hold a ceremony before the game to introduce the player and present the message of equality that Mr. Robinson wanted.

As it is, there is still a long way to go, and we all know that.

Yet why do I have to feel nervous about saying that? Why do we worry that everything we say could get us fired or suspended?

Don't actions speak louder than words anyway? Well which is it?

Heck, I'm even concerned about pressing "Publish" on this post, and that's become more frequent in the past four years or so.

It shouldn't be like that. Common sense should prevail and I'd like to think we can look at what's in a persons heart.

Brian Davis shouldn't have been suspended.

Common sense isn't all that common.

Truly a Joy

It didn't end that way.

I called a baseball game today, and it was magnificent.

I don't mean my call. My broadcast was full of stuttering and mistakes and other signs that I was hungry (and probably tired).

But I loved watching two pitchers: Gavin Noriega of Salesian High School (from New Rochelle, NY) and JD Sparks of Brunswick School (of Greenwich, CT). They spun five innings of pure magic. Zeroes rang out on the scoreboard and in my scorebook.

Noriega was twirling, as he had a perfect game through four-and-a-third innings, and a no-hitter after five. Sparks was equally good, scattering five hits over seven innings. Sparks became "Houdini" as he climbed out of several jams.

Noriega was gone after five, replaced by a young man named Steven Pisacano (and I misread his name on the hand-written roster as "Pisacaro." Sigh). Pisacano was also quite good, allowing two hits over 1.2 innings.

No score after six-and-a-half.

It was a game that took one hour and 47 minutes, and it ended with one out in the bottom of the seventh.

This is the full broadcast.
 Or if you just want to hear the bottom of the seventh, then listen to this:
Or...just cut to the chase. This is the call of Jake Hyde's "walkoff" single.
Brunswick 1, Salesian 0.

It was fun. Warm. Sunny. As always, it was a challenge to scribble lineups and talk to coaches before the first pitch. But it's a dance that I so love when everything is right.

I take calling these games seriously (yep. NEWSFLASH!), and I have brutal crisis of confidence. But so is the very nature of it.

It was near 70 degrees for the game and I was wearing shorts. It's heading down to 41 and cold for the second broadcast of my day: Brunswick and New Canaan in lacrosse.

Sigh.

** On some level, a few of you who read this blog might care what I have to say about the Huey Lewis news (that's NOT a joke) from yesterday. To be honest, I'm still debating a blog post on it, but suffice to say, I'm quite sad about it. I'll leave it at that.

I digress. So I'll call the lax game and leave that for another time.

Calling the game from right field. Making the best of it.

So About Last Night

Wow, Christian, that's some uniform-grabbing! (CHARLES KRUPA/AP)

Yes, the baseball world was spun back on its axis last night.

There's a writer for NBC Sports named Bill Baer. Ol' Bill is a stats-loving sabermetric-type o'chap who thinks modern baseball should be all about touchdown dances and fun! Those who play hard are not fun! Heck, just look at this piece of prose, about how some Cubs are telling Javier Baez to tone his game down just a smidge.

Over in Boston, the Yankees and Red Sox reignited THE RIVALRY(c), as Brock Holt was upset by a hard Tyler Austin slide.

In Twitter-land and other parts of the interwebs, both sides are accusing the other of bias. Because, they're...you know...fans.

Yawn.

Here's the deal: I call BS when I see it. Know that I love the sport and am not enamored with the modern version of it. I couldn't care less whether Jackie Robinson smiled, but I knew he was one hard-nosed SOB on the field.

I would have loved him on the Yankees. That's how this goes.

Put a man on second base to start extra innings? Thanks, Rob Manfred (because we all know he wants it at the big league level).

If I had a problem with Austin's slide, I'd tell you. Given my propensity for old time baseball (Eddie Shore? Oh...wait...wrong movie), you will understand that I have minimal problem with Austin. My only beef -- slightly rare, if you will -- is that Austin could have gotten up, patted Holt on the back (not too hard now) and said, "Hey. You OK? Incidentally, where do you go to get your hair that blonde?" and trotted back to the dugout.

Let's not take note of -- thanks to the modern rules (aka "The Chase Utley Rule") -- middle infielders act like Tom Brady when a feather breezes by them.

"WAIT! That's a 15-yard penalty! Where's the flag!"

But from the top of Mount Washington through the "summer houses" of Newport, out through the Cape and sort of towards the Berkshires (which is more Yankees-land than New Englanders ever wish to admit), there was a howl of "You'll get yours, Austin!"

And he did, in the form of a Joe Kelly fastball on his second try. Shawn Estes, come on down!


Austin took offense -- his business, I guess. The benches emptied. We had a donnybrook!

(Part of me would love for Austin to do the old Don Baylor routine. That is, to treat the hit by pitch as if a mosquito just bit him, drop the bat, and run to first.)

In the Mahopac home office, I glanced, and continued about my business. Call me crazy, but I'm a bottom-line guy. This is all that matters to me...

Funny, 35-to-1 or whatever the Red Sox won by on Monday night suddenly was irrelevant. All of the handwringing about Giancarlo Stanton and his one-million strikeouts ended. Aaron Boone's awful bullpen decisions? Moot points.

Yankees 10. Red Sox 7. That's all that matters for now.

Here's the bigger takeaway: these teams play way too much now. There is too much divisional play, so some luster has disappeared. Plus with modern-day baseball, there's a lot of fraternizing. When it came to Yankees/Red Sox, whether it was 1904 and "Nuf Ced" McGreevy or 1949 or 1974-78 or 1999-2005 (give or take) there was genuine hatred, especially with everything pre-1994 (ish).

Sweet Lou and Pudge, 1976 (Ned Martin and Hawk Harrelson on TV-38).


Oh, Pedro.

So last night gave this "Greatest Rivalry" (which stands up with Ohio State/Michigan, Giants/Dodgers, Bruins/Canadiens, etc) a nifty little boost.

And it's not over.

Incidentally, before you go on and dump your chowder on each side, my understanding is that Jerry Remy was fair on NESN, and I know for a fact David Cone was excellent on YES. Each one saw the others side quite well.

I see the same here. I get why Holt is mad, and Austin should have patted him on the back. It all likely ends there.

Kelly wants to protect his teammate? Fine. Do it once. But he doubled-down, and then it was time to play the feud, with catcher Christian Varquez, who was rightly called out by John Flaherty on YES for not protecting Kelly fast enough, going to the Jason Varitek School of Tough Guy Mask-Wearing.

Varitek ("The Captain" -- as noted by the "C" on his jersey) and Mr. Rodriguez, 2004.

So it goes. The Republic did not burn down. Fans from each side will continue to spout utterly dumb things.

All this over a slide. But we need more hot-dogging?

They'll play another 17 times. Including tonight.

A Different World

I saw the above picture show up in my Timehop this morning.

Timehop -- if you don't know -- is one of those services that presents social media memories from past posts.

I took that picture, pre-camera phone, with my digital camera. It's a -- GASP! -- selfie, before we knew what the hell a selfie was (and before they became known as being so narcissistic, but that's for another time).

It was taken on a chilly day in a park in Pennsylvania. We had gone to the park near my niece's apartment to let Sean and his cousin Kendall run around for an hour or so.

To be honest, I remember it was really cold, and it might have even been Easter Sunday. I think we went to the park to let the Easter Bunny visit. I took the picture to occupy myself, and I suppose to keep my sense of humor.

That weekend in PA still resonates for me. It was the first time I had ventured off with Sean as a (not quite) single father. There were still formalities to deal with, but the die had been cast.

I was trying to figure it all out. I remember that distinctly. I wasn't nervous about taking care of Sean. I just felt -- I can't quite explain it. I felt...different?

I also remember that, barely an hour into the trip, Sean got sick. Nothing major, but it seemed to embody how we were both going into new territory. He wasn't nervous. He was excited, and he was fine after that.

In fact, I took this not long after, but in the days where I would turn the camera on him and yell "RANDOM SEAN SHOT!"

Interestingly, I wrote about the trip before I left:

I'm off to Pennsylvania for the weekend with Sean and Stephanie and Laura and Steve's. Sean will have a blast with Kendall and Emma. If you don't know who these people are, then buy a scorecard! I'm conflicted about going, but I'll go, and we'll have fun. I doubt I'll be able to check in, so be safe and well, and if Easter is your thing, then enjoy.

Anyway, pictures say a lot. They bring up memories. I don't have too much more to add than that.

Career Choices

I was talking with a friend of my father not long after he died in 1989. I had made my way into the world of broadcasting, and he told me he talked with my dad about my vocation.

"He was nervous about it," he told me.

I remember, years earlier, telling Dad that I wanted to be a broadcaster. He told me it's a tough career, and of course, he was right.

I still went through it, and after over 27 years, I'm still here.

My dad never heard me on the air. That will always be a regret, but that's how it goes.

He's been gone 29 years. I don't have the eloquence to explain the passage of time, but it's safe to say he's missed and always in our thoughts.

He never wanted me to drive a truck, like him. He wanted an office life for me (and I spent plenty of time there).

Twenty-nine years. Today.

You might think about beer and Irish music. Maybe corned beef.

St. Patrick's Day will always have a different feeling for me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a game to call.

To Walkout Or Not To Walkout

You probably know that today is the National School Walkout, a hotly-debated topic, as students across the country step out of class for 17 minutes to honor those who were lost in Parkland, FL, while also standing up for their own safety and well-being.

In some school districts, it is only a high school event. Other districts have extended it through middle school and even elementary school.

That's the case in the Wappingers Central School District in New York. That's where our intrepid cub reporter, Sean Adams, attends school.

I texted Sean on Monday to see if he would be walking out of class. His answer was short and to the point.

However, I'm not going to tell you what he said, for I want Sean to do whatever he chooses. He had his say, and I'm proud of him.

I hope that we never have to have this conversation again.

Dear Jerry Blevins

Dear Jerry,

Hi, it's Rob here. You know, the lousy hack play-by-play announcer, who isn't worthy of broadcasting your little ol' baseball team in Queens.

So it seems you decided to take on ranking the best baseball movies "ever," and you sort of crapped on a film called Field of Dreams.

Funny thing, sports movies are. Some would consider Field of Dreams to not even be a baseball movie. For my money, baseball plays a big role, so yes it is indeed a baseball movie.

Then, resident CBS Sports troll Dayn Perry decided to back you up. Wow. All of the geniuses are out tonight. Just waiting for Ryan Ruocco to chime in (you know, since he's Vin reinvented and all).

I'm not here to advocate for Field of Dreams to be the best ever.

But you decided to say in your oh-so-brilliant way (do they have a class for this in Queens?) that the father/son element...

Well, I don’t think the movie does a good enough job to call it a father/son movie. I never really care all that much about their relationship.

Let me use a Facebook response from tonight to get my $.02 in:

Here's what I'll say in regards to the father/son angle. It's mentioned on the ride back from Minnesota. How Ray walks out and says, to paraphrase, "I can never support someone whose hero is a criminal." 

I saw the movie, I think, in May, 1989. This would be roughly 10 weeks after my own father passed away (on March 17, 1989). Consider the buildup. Consider the father in the Yankees (Highlanders) uniform. Consider the "Dad, do you want to have a catch" (my own father and I, due to his severe arthritis, basically didn't have a catch of any way, shape, or form after 1973) and you can understand why I was the last one to leave the damn theater. Most dads get that. THAT'S why it matters. At least to me.

Look, Jer. Field of Dreams is mega-flawed. It's sappy, and Ray Liotta hits right-handed as Joe Jackson and so on. But it works. I can watch literally every minute of it until Dwyer-freaking-Brown shows up. I COULD NOT have a catch with my old man. I'd kill for him to appear in some corn field to ask me to do so. I've cried for nearly 29 years over this stuff. While you're a big, tough baseball player, I'm a soft-hearted dude who misses his dad.

Sorry. Guess that makes me a failure.

For the record, there are myriad terrific movies that feature baseball, and you barely hit the surface. Sure, The Natural is fine, but it's an embarrassment in comparison to the book, which is beautifully dark and stark. Ever seen Bang the Drum Slowly? Do so. How about The Stratton Story?

Jimmy Stewart. Say no more.

And do. Not. Mess. With. Bull. Durham. Just don't. I'm warning you.

It's not secret Uncle Robbie doesn't dig religion (don't get me going). I like certain people of faith and all, but...well...let me stop before I get in more trouble. Anywho, Bull Durham gets it. It's dated, but it works.

Pride of the Yankees? OK, I get it. They have yet to get either Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig right on film. How about *61? I know there are historical inaccuracies (Maris didn't sign his "X" for a kid in '61. It was 1962.) but damn I tear up when Roger hits number 61.

Then again, *61 is the story of a team with a hero who breaks an important record, en route to winning a World Series. Oh, wait. You play for the Mets. Never mind.

For the record, Jerry, your list is crap. For what it's worth, not a single one of your movies came out before 1988, with Bull Durham being the oldest. See, I know I'm an old guy and all, but I don't do the simple "millennium" crap (and I'm sure you prefer the Billy Bob Thornton version of Bad News Bears).

I saw the Walter Matthau version of Bad News Bears in the theater in 1976...then promptly went home and recited the speech about where the Yankees could shove their trophy to my parents (my older siblings took me to see it). I was seven. Suffice to say, my dad wasn't entirely amused, but still, my education in baseball cinema deepened.

I saw Alibi Ike (1935). It Happens Every Spring (1949). Damn Yankees (1958).  Elmer, The Great (1933).

I've seen them. All of them. Some are absolutely putrid.

But I've seen them. Have you?

You actually list For Love of the Game as being better than Field of Dreams. Not for nothing, but do you know WHY it's better?

One guess. Come on.

You all know it! (Otherwise, it's not that good of a movie)

For the love of god (and the game) it isn't THAT HARD!



DUH. It's Vin-freaking-Scully. That's why.

I'm not going to give you a top five or 10. I love Bull Durham. I love Eight Men Out. I love *61 and Major League. But I also love The Stratton Story and sort of tolerate A League of Their Own (I love Tom Hanks, and I stood where they filmed those scenes in Cooperstown). I like The Sandlot. but I also love Bang the Drum Slowly and the ORIGINAL Bad News Bears.

And I detest The Babe. One of the most disappointing films I've ever seen. I walked out of the movie theater in a deep depression.

The points is: I know baseball movies. Field of Dreams is what it is. But try to understand it.

Maybe start by reading the book. Because I have.

Anyway, I'd love to chat about it. It's clear you don't really get it.

Good luck in that National League East.

Oh, and you're probably best off never playing for the Yankees.

Best,
Rob

Hockey And Stuff

The Brunswick play-by-play ream (Photo courtesy Joe Early)

It's been a rather hectic past couple of months around the Exit 55 lair.

Wait. There's no need to go into details.

No. Really.

So much of my life isn't on Facebook. Or Twitter. Or Instagram. Or Snapchat (I don't really "snap" a lot).

Really, it's not on the blog either. Guess I do keep a few things to myself after all.

Maybe one day I can tell the stories. Maybe by the time I do, they won't matter.

Maybe I'd like to get paid to tell them.

Paid. Hmm.

I digress.

I called two hockey games sandwiched around a recent weekend. On Friday, I handled the call as The Gunnery came to Brunswick. Then on Monday, I called Greenwich and Northwest Catholic.

For the record, Brunswick won on Friday in a good, but otherwise normal game. In the Monday tilt, NWC came back to tie the Cardinals in the third, before their legit star Alex Mozian gave Big Red a 4-3 overtime win.

It was a joy to call the game at Dorothy Hamill Rink. For starters, Greenwich hockey was back on WGCH Radio. Beyond that, I got to laugh and call a game with Paul Silverfarb. Paul and I had much bigger plans for more calls, so now we relish the ones we actually get to do.


Again. Perhaps another blog post for another time.

But it was more. It was being back in our old corner -- right above the office at the Dorothy Hamill Rink. I always enjoy seeing friendly faces, and I was treated well by the Hamill staff, not to mention the people that I know.

Teams evolve, and faces change. What might have been a consistent for 20 years can easily be replaced. It's just how it is. One voice evolves into another, without ever knowing that it happened.

Well this voice -- the one that called Greenwich hockey in regular season games, playoff games, a state championship game, and a few FCIAC championship games -- enjoyed being back in the drivers seat.

"Don't take money. Don't take fame. Don't need no credit card to ride this train." -- said a wise man (OK, so it's Huey Lewis, Chris Hayes, and Johnny Colla).

Now back to Friday. If you follow me on social media, I promoted that I'd have a special guest on the broadcast, and he was indeed special.

Mike Richter. Stanley Cup Champion. New York Rangers goalie.

Mike is a father of a Brunswick player (Tom Richter) and is often at games. However, no matter how many times I saw him (or Martin St. Louis or even Mark Messier), I've left him alone.

Sure, it's cool and all, but I'm just not into harassing these people. They want to see their kids play. Their guards are up (rightfully so). They just want to be dads.

So I would nod or smile or say hello if we caught eyes. Otherwise, that was it. Then the idea was hatched to have Mike and/or Martin join me on the air for a senior day interview.

My friend Joe Early (Brunswick communications guru and all-around good dude) along with athletic director/hockey coach Ron VanBelle made it happen, and the next thing I knew, I was supposed to reach out to Mike Richter.

I emailed him, and the response was immediate.

Yes.

While it was no average broadcast, it became average. It had to. OK, there were times I thought my heart would explode because of the respect I have for his knowledge of the game. My own self-doubt said, "Dude. This guys games were called by Sam Rosen. Marv Albert. Gary Thorne.

"And Doc...freaking...Emrick.

"Let's face I'm a schlub."

Yes. I used those words.

He couldn't have been kinder. He was complimentary of my skills (just as I later reminded Messier also once said the same).

Well, in the end, with lots of prep work, stringing of cables for the Local Live video feed to link with our audio, and the support of good people, we did it.

We laughed, and he seemed to enjoy it. I became "Robbo."

Joe: "You picked up a nickname from a former NHL goalie."

It's just another game. But it was cool.

Cool. That's why I still love calling these games.



Whether it's Brunswick, Greenwich High, Fairfield Prep, Fairfield Ludlowe, Cal Ripken League baseball for the OGRCC, Babe Ruth baseball for Trumbull, the Renegades, Sound Tigers, or anyone else, I love doing it.

Surprisingly, we're just over a year away from the 20th anniversary of my first call as a "paid" sports broadcaster.

Ah, the stories.

We can add this one to the list.

Two Of Us

Somehow -- in the blink of an eye -- my son turned 16.

Yes, Sean is of driving age (here in New York) as of this morning.

I've written countless words about him, and I continue to be impressed and proud as he grows up. No matter the flub or triumph, he has stayed grounded. I only hope it continues into a wonderful adulthood.

Not that I'm in any rush.

*****

Let's go back in time. It was 2007, and I had just taken a new job in White Plains (it lasted six weeks. Longer story).

Before the job, I decided to spend a day getting away with Sean. Just father/son time. We were -- of all things -- going to go to Middletown, NY where there was a Krispy Kreme shop.

Yes, we've always had this unique bond for such silliness. He wanted a donut, and to watch them get made. We'd pal around and head back home.

We got to Middletown, and I prepared to turn off Route 211 into the side road that would lead to the parking lot.

"Where is the Krispy Kreme," I thought.

Uh oh. It was gone. Out of business.

Cue the tears. A flood, to be exact.

My mind raced. OK, we'll go to the nearby mall and walk around. I think there's a Dunkin Donuts there.

Sure enough, after finding a donut (and coffee for me), we resumed our day, but the wound remained.

On the way home, we listened to the Let It Be (Naked) album by The Beatles that stripped off all of Phil Spector's production efforts.

Among the songs on this occasionally-maligned (by Beatles standards) album is "Two of Us." While it comes off playfully as a Lennon and McCartney tune, it's actually a Paul ode to his Linda about their travels together.

Still, as I heard the lyrics, I found myself thinking about my travels with Sean.

Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone's
Hard earned pay
Two of us Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home

And so on.

The song became an important bond with me for Sean, a la Cats in the Cradle, I suppose. As life would change through the balance of 2007-2009, the importance of the song would deepen for me.

One morning, I caught the movie I Am Sam, which features Sean Penn as a man with a disability, fighting for custody of his daughter. The movie uses a collection of Beatles tunes performed by different artists.

Enter "Two of Us."

If you know where I was in that stretch of my life, you can understand my emotions.

Flash forward several years to lunch with a friend. With the jukebox playing, we chatted about whatever it is we were chatting about.

Enter "Two of Us." Again.

I couldn't speak. Tried to nod. I felt awful for the raw emotions that poured from me.

Not every listen to the song makes me feel like that.

Something tells me when I listen to it today, I'll need a minute to myself.

This kid -- boy, man, guy, dude, "bruh" -- has been one my true constant since February 23, 2002.

You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead.

*****

I apologize if this comes off as "being about me," but it truly isn't. It's about a bond, and an admiration for a son from his dad.

We've walked too many highways together. We've hashed out a lot of life. He's dealt with "big boy" things that he often shouldn't have to, but so was -- and is -- the very nature of our relationship.

I love watching him evolve. I hope you will also.

Everyone says they have "the best kid." I don't worry about that.

I have the best kid.

For me.

Mahopac-Carmel Hockey (Hockey Fights Cancer)

In case you missed it, this is what you looked like (and sounded like) on Friday night, as Mahopac and Carmel met at the Brewster Ice Arena. Harold and I have the call. Harold wanted to try shooting video, and I was grateful for the effort. As for the call, though I was on about two hours sleep (not advisable), I was still proud and excited to be a part of this game.

Lots of Basketball Today!

Join the legendary Shawn Sailer and me today for the fourth annual Martin Luther King, Jr Basketball Classic from Webster Bank Arena in Bridgeport, CT.

We'll go live at 10:55!

11am: Fairfield Ludlowe Falcons/Bridgeport Central Hilltoppers
1pm: Career Magnet Panthers/Warren Harding Presidents
3pm: Xaverian Clippers/Notre Dame of Fairfield Lancers
5pm: Wilbur Cross Governors/Bassick Lions

Listen LIVE: http://mixlr.com/robcasting-radio

Robcasting Radio is on Mixlr

Plus check out our archive at http://mixlr.com/robcasting-radio/showreel/ or https://www.mixcloud.com/robcasting-radio/ or https://archive.org/details/@double5

On Faith and Good Deeds

A snowy and windy day led to a tough view out the window

I'm not known for being a man of faith.

A man of spirit? Yes, I'll buy into that, but religion and I tend to not be the best of friends.

Not to say I don't respect such. I count members of clergy among friends. I also ran the controls for several faith-based shows, including "On Faith," which ran for almost a year on WGCH, hosted by The Rev. Dr. Jim Lemler, who was the priest-in-charge of Christ Church in Greenwich.

He also became my friend, and I was pleased to interview him last summer as a way of sending him off into retirement.

Father Elias Villis, whose son Nick is a 2018 captain at Brunswick, has become a social media friend.

Further, I'm now a broadcaster for Fairfield Prep, a Jesuit school.

But there's some deep-rooted stuff here. No need to go through it all.

I'll only allow that faith played a role in the destruction of a relationship, but that was also 30 years ago.

So I've long made it known I belong to "the Church of Baseball," and when discussing "godlike" things, Babe Ruth is normally mentioned.

That being said, I've been known to have many a conversation with my late father, including a long graveside chat a few Christmases ago, when I spent the day alone.

So it's safe to say I'm (perhaps) confused, skeptical, or whatever.

I'm burying the lede here.

Perhaps you're aware that we had a pretty large snowstorm around metro New York today. Boston is getting pummeled, and there's snow all along the east coast.

As in parts of Florida.

Coupled with the snow is wind. Gusting, it is.

For the past decade, I've had a snow blower, but it hasn't worked for a few years. We didn't worry about fixing it because a childhood friend of mine would stop by and plow us out.

But his plow is shot.

So it was up to me, and that's fine. I made my peace with it.

I bundled up and prepared for bitter cold temperatures. I kept reminding myself to go slow, and lift with my legs.

Folks, the truth is that I'm the prototype for being in the news for dying of a heart attack while shoveling the snow. That is not to exaggerate. At all.

The snow was heavy, and trips down the road from the plow made the bottom of the driveway look really uninviting.

But I promised I would be patient. I shoveled some, then stopped and cleaned my car. Shoveled, then checked my phone (tomorrow's Fairfield Prep/Notre Dame-West Haven game is postponed to Saturday at 6:30 p.m...listen live at mixlr.com/robcasting-radio/).

I found out virtually every school has closed. What has happened to us?

The shoveling continued, and I made my way down the driveway (to be fair, it's not very long). In the meantime, a plow had once again come down the road. I was relieved I hadn't cleaned the bottom of the driveway just to watch the plow put more back.

He went to the end of the road and cleaned it diligently. I stopped and watched to catch my breath.

As I got to the bottom of the driveway, creating a column so that I could then go row by row across, the plow began to pass me. I stopped so that I could wave to him (and catch my breath again).

He stopped.

I resumed.

Then I heard a voice: "Take a step back."

I did as I was told. He backed up, angled the plow to his left, and pushed the monster pile at the bottom of the driveway to my left.

"That's all I can do," he said, and moved along.

I stood there, stunned. It was too late, but I wanted to offer him coffee or water or something.

He was gone.

I could do just one thing. I glanced skyward.

"Why do I think you had something to do with that?" I asked my father.

I finished up, came inside, and got warm.

I won't say where the plow was from, because I don't want anyone to get in any trouble, but I feel profoundly grateful tonight.

I'm not a heathen (I'm a baptized Methodist, for the record).

But I figure somewhere, both Rev. Lemler and Fr. Elias are having a divine smile.

Or it was a really nice coincidence.

I'm a tough egg.

STOP! It's the 55th Post!

2011

OK, the most recent post was supposed to be it!

But the name of this blog is "Exit 55," and we published 54 posts in 2018.

No, that will NOT due!

I have a couple of things that I've never posted. But they're staying in the drafts folder.

For now.

Yes, I know, I once posted well over 400 posts in a year, but that was then.

I can't walk away on 54. Oh sure, 54 was Goose Gossage and Brian Urlacher.

And Car 54, Where Are You?

But we're might fond of 55 around here.

We HAVE driven 55. NY Route 55, to be exact (as in the above photo).

I'm babbling, of course. It's fair to call this a nonsensical post.

But it meant something to me to end on the fifty-fifth post.

OK, now we're done.

Goodnight.

Onto '18

We could use a time machine. The TARDIS will do nicely (plus Peter Capaldi works his way into this post).

I feel like I have more to write tonight.

I probably should.

I will remember 2017. We can look back at all of the bad, but no. Take those as lessons.

Challenges.

Memories.

Inspiration.

But to "keep moving forward," we need to move on.

So let's look at the positive.

We're still here. That's one thing.

I have the best son. I'm crazy proud of him.

We only traveled twice in '17 -- both times to North Carolina, and both within the span of under a month. But it's still twice more than not traveling at all.

I only called 69 games in 2017, but you know what? I had a blast on each game. Sometimes it's not about quantity. I surrounded myself with the best collection of colleagues who are also friends. Chris, Kato, Jake, Dan, Shawn, AJ, Paul, Josh, Ian, Mick. Thank you, all.

I stuck my toe back into college basketball again, and can say I've called Div. I, III, and now II. Plus I survived the snowstorm that day and night, and made it home alive.

I was invited back to call Renegades games. I never thought that would happen.

I've created new relationships, including Fairfield Prep, and furthered my relationship with Brunswick. Plus Babe Ruth Baseball.

The Clubhouse. Mark and Dave.

And Greenwich High football gave us thrills galore. They were really just two points shy (even if the final tally was nine).

My family is my family. We're all still here also.

I have an amazing collection of friends. I can't list them all. They know who they are.

There are people who have my back. I know that.

I also see the truth, and remain truthful to myself. Integrity means something, and that's meant to to be obnoxious. It's one of many virtues that I treasure.

What I'm saying is that there are myriad positives. Let's focus on that.

We'll muddle through the rest of it.

So let's get going with 2018 already.

Incidentally, the Yankees have known great success in years ending in "8." As in 1928, 1938, 1958, 1978, and 1998.

Tonight, I watched Peter Capaldi depart Doctor Who. I waited almost a week, so I could watch it with Sean. Sadly, I knew a few of the surprises. No matter. The experience was wonderful.

Now, Jodie Whittaker, go make the 13th Doctor great. We'll be watching.


The Winter Classic is tomorrow in Queens. That means the Rangers, and Doc Emrick. Perfect.

I'm hopeful for the future, though it's not like life will immediately get easier as soon as we hit midnight.

I'm nervous -- very much so -- that I'm feeling hopeful. But I'll adjust. I love those who survive.

Then thrive.

I'd like to think maybe I'm one after all.

It's all going to take time, and I have to remind myself of that very thing. I can't let a hiccup throw the whole thing off course.

"Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, 'It will be happier.'" --Alfred Lord Tennyson

I wish you all peace and health tonight, tomorrow, and the day after.

And so on.

You don't need a flip of the calendar to do so. Do it now.

Imagine that, indeed.

We know tonight is overrated.

What 2018 will be is unknown.

Let's start finding out.

After Opening Night

Game number one at Fairfield Prep is in the books.

For us, I thought it was a good night overall. I have to learn the players more. Learn Coach Leo Redgate a little more. Understand the SCC better as well.

All in time. I was once a Greenwich/FCIAC rookie.

The biggest blunder of the night was the attempt to the put the game on YouTube. I must have messed up an audio setting, so that was what was heard was the mic on my computer, and not the headsets through the mixer.

However, YouTube was an experiment, and not mean to be heard. So I'll have to change a few settings and we can try that again. The actual game broadcast was on Mixlr, and that's where it will stay for now.

Shawn Sailer and I were in Alumni Hall a little after 3pm to start setup. With an ethernet line secured and our equipment ready at courtside, all we needed was a game.

And a broadcast partner. Jake Zimmer joined us and we were good to go.

Shawn Sailer, Jake Zimmer, and some other guy.

Around 6:55, I launched our new "Robcasting Radio Sign On." As you might know, I'm a big fan of paying homage to classic radio, and that's what this opener is. It features Network ID's from Mutual, CBS, ABC, and NBC.

Each one, in fact, dates to sometime between the 1930s and 1950s, with the Mutual one coming from VJ Day in August, 1945.



Before the game, I got to formally meet Prep AD Tom Curran, head coach Leo Redgate, and "co-head contact" Eric Scholl (fellow "co-head contact" Eric Wuchiski couldn't be there, so that meant we had at least one listener!).

From there, it was basketball time. Career got the win, and Prep is undeterred. It's a young team, but they'll figure it out.

Oh and I was given swag! Now, don't be offended Greenwich, but...

Yes, I know. The sweatshirt is big, and we'll resolve that after the holidays, but I'm so grateful to Eric Scholl for the gifts, and to everyone for making us feel at home at (probably) my favorite place to call basketball.

I'm also grateful for the time to chat with Coach Redgate and company after the game.

This (with Brunswick, Greenwich, and our "Have Headset. Will Travel" mantra) could be everything I've always wanted. Only time will tell (Asia, 1982).

Last thing: I've discovered a new place to archive games. Check out Mixcloud. I'm able to send the game from Mixlr onto the Mixcloud server as soon as we're off the air, so that's a win for everyone. I'll still keep the Archive.org page, but we're all about ease of us and cost here at Robcasting Headquarters.

Here's last night's game:



We're back at it Wednesday and Thursday nights for the Holiday Classic. The first game is at 6pm with the nightcap at 8pm.

Dick Enberg (1935-2017)

From left: Dick Enberg and Merlin Olsen, 1988

I woke up to the news that we lost one of our pillars of sports broadcasting.

One of my heroes in this business.

Dick Enberg has died at 82.

Oh, my indeed.

Over a nearly 60-year career, Enberg (who held a doctorate in health sciences) truly "touched 'em all" (paraphrasing one of his catch phrases).

He called eight Super Bowls, and would have called a ninth, but ceded the job to outgoing Curt Gowdy in Super Bowl XIII. Enberg chose to anchor the pre-game show instead, allowing Gowdy one last call on NBC.

It was with the Peacock Network where Enberg would make his name nationally, but prior to that, he was renowned in Los Angeles for his coverage of UCLA, as well as the Angels and Rams.

It was Enberg who called the UCLA/Houston "Game of the Century" to a national audience in 1968. That was the first time a regular season college basketball game was seen across the country.

He hosted a couple of game shows, as well as Sports Challenge, a trivia show that brought out some of the most famous athletes ever. Imagine the likes of Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio on a game show? You didn't have to. They were on Sports Challenge.

Upon his move to NBC in 1975, Enberg became among the most familiar voices in the business. The Renaissance Man truly did it all. The eight Super Bowls. The 1982 World Series. The Rose Bowl. Wimbledon (which he and Bud Collins made into appointment TV with Breakfast at Wimbledon). The French Open. The Breeders' Cup. Boxing. The US Open (and, later, The Masters on CBS). The Olympics. The NBA. College basketball.

He was absolute brilliance with Billy Packer and Al McGuire on college hoops, including the famed Magic/Bird National Championship of 1979. Here they are in 1981, calling Notre Dame/Virginia.



He even a couple of Canadian Football League Games during the 1982 NFL strike.

Here's Dr. Enberg, chatting with another broadcaster named Scully. The two retired in 2016.



For me, Enberg will always be the NFL. He'll always be a Sunday afternoon with the great Merlin Olsen -- my favorite NFL broadcasting duo. It was a big event when Dick Enberg was on, and he and Olsen were the perfect combination of broadcasting finesse.

Here are the two opening a 1988 AFC Divisional Playoff Game.


There are so many standout moments, and others will hit me as the day goes on, but here's a classic: John Elway and the Broncos on "The Drive" in 1987.



He had just started doing a podcast, and tweeted this yesterday:

From the #Beatles to David Letterman - James Cagney to George Clooney - TV Producer and Executive, Andy Friendly, has rubbed shoulders with the biggest names in entertainment. He takes us behind the scenes today on #SoundofSuccess! https://t.co/NrPPnduTEo

— Dick Enberg (@Deohmy) December 21, 2017

Oh yeah, and he was one of the broadcasters in The Naked Gun (with Mel Allen, of course).


The only way to finish this is to present you with his most famous phrase of all. Thank you, Dick Enberg, for everything. Oh, my.

Other Doors Open

So about that picture.

When the Greenwich Cardinals football team finished off their regular season as the top team in Class LL on Thanksgiving, I found myself wondering who Big Red would play in the first round of the state playoffs.

It turned out the Jesuits of Fairfield Prep were the answer.

I remembered that their football team had a good twitter presence, so as Thanksgiving Day moved along, I sent this tweet:

I'm excited to cover @Prep_Football next week. They're social media savvy, and teams like that are a pleasure to work with. See you next Tuesday. #cthsfb

— Rob Adams (@double5) November 23, 2017

Their response was, well, glorious

We do our best Rob, lookin forward to Tuesday!! 😎 #cthsfb pic.twitter.com/birQLiL00u

— Ffld Prep Football (@Prep_Football) November 24, 2017

Greenwich went on to beat Prep, but I guess that Chris Erway and I -- along with Ian Barto and Shawn Sailer (and Sean Kilkelly) -- put together what sounded like a professional broadcast on WGCH.

You know. The A-Team (which isn't meant to be as obnoxious as it comes off, and is a tongue-in-cheek thing, but let's not let that stand in the way).

And so it went from there. But there was something else building. They liked me.

No, they really liked me!

Honestly, who doesn't like Sally Field?

So my new friends -- with Eric Scholl leading the way -- began casually chatting with me about other things that I cover.

Hmmm...have headset will travel, anyone?

A few days later, as I battled traffic through Greenwich/Rye Brook/Harrison/Port Chester, I saw this tweet in response to a tweet of mine:

✔ Radio Broadcaster
✔ GameDay Play by Play
✔ Journalist
✔ Traffic Reporter
🔳 Weatherman
🔳 What Next? https://t.co/GBKC8ibpy0

— Ffld Prep Football (@Prep_Football) December 2, 2017

So what's next? Well, that's where the picture at the top of the post comes in. In addition to my WGCH duties and calling games at Brunswick, I've been invited to try my hand at calling Fairfield Prep basketball.

Helloooooo, SCC!

You see, here's the thing. I've given Greenwich largely 20 years of my life. I've loved it. I've called basically everything in town. Football, basketball, hockey, baseball, softball, etc. Plus some other stuff during my time at HAN.

But there are realities, and times that you have to watch out for opportunities.

And times when you just sort of like being wanted.

Brunswick has certainly made me feel great there, and I've loved the relationship I've built with them. They'll certainly keep me busy.

WGCH is talking about putting a package together and getting games back on the air with more consistency.

And Fairfield Prep said, "We'd love to have you."

And John Dailey -- the head basketball coach at Fairfield Ludlowe (and my friend) has always opened the door to me. So we'll see what we can do there (knowing that HAN has first dibs on anything there).

Lastly, with a quick chat, Webster Bank Arena wants me to call their Martin Luther King Holiday Tournament.

In short, I'm a free agent. I'm a guy who loves calling games.

It's a nerve-wracking and exciting time. I can't let the past months bog me down. 2017? It's been a rough year. I've made mistakes and been misunderstood and have made more enemies than I ever knew. I'm still not sure why I did.

But let's not. Let's see the good, and keep moving forward.

This is also about people who believe. Maybe even believe in me. So it's about Shawn Sailer and Jake Zimmer and AJ Szymanowski and Dan Gardella and Chris Erway and Chris Kaelin and Paul Silverfarb and Josh Somma and others.

I mean, this tweet from Chris Erway stunned me, after Fairfield Prep head coach Leo Redgate announced that I would be calling as many Jesuit basketball games as I can get to.

Getting the best in the business

— Christopher Erway Jr (@CJErway) December 19, 2017

No. I didn't have to pay him to say that. I didn't ask him either.

And he does way too much good for me. Currently, I can only repay by being a good friend.

One day, I hope I can do better than that.

So this is what's happening: I'm going to call Fairfield Prep basketball. As of now, I'm calling all of the home games, except for one. I'm going to handle their four-game Holiday Tournament next week, and will try for a few road games.

We're hoping there is a lot more. My calendar (and my life) is wide open to opportunities.

Which reminds me -- John Nash! We still have to talk about GFA!

There was once a time where my concern was about coverage for Sean. But Sean's nearly 16.

As for Greenwich? No, I'm not done there. I'm still planning on Doubleheader and any games we can get on WGCH. Plus Brunswick plays a huge part in things as well.

But this was also a solid reminder. For me, anyway. A reminder to go where you're wanted.

It's time to make this jump. The "Robcasting Radio" widget is on the right side of the page here on the blog-o-matic. This is the link: http://mixlr.com/robcasting-radio/ (Please note: I might also create a YouTube channel...or migrate to YouTube. You know what we say in broadcasting: STAY TUNED!)

To start off, this will be radio. There is hope for video down the line, and we'll see if we keep the radio link alive. My guess is that we will because I'll always believe in that. It's the purest form of calling a game, and the easiest setup (headset, mixer, computer, wifi...GO!)

Game one is Friday night at 7pm, when Career Magnet of New Haven comes to Alumni Hall. Jake and I will be there.

I'll likely be sleeping on my sister's couch a lot. Or an air mattress.

What is Robcasting? (And Some Really Cool Logos)

Oh yeah, that's really freaking cool.

I know. "Robcasting" sounds obnoxious.

Narcissistic.

There's a story behind it, and hopefully I don't need to explain it forever.

Somewhere along the line (2014 is my guess), my friend and former coworker Kaitlin Bradshaw (with an assist from the newly-married Kait Shea Vumback) said the term "Robcasting" came to her in regard to what I had started at Hersam Acorn in late 2013.

To her, I was the lone broadcaster in the company, trying to teach (mostly) everyone else. Not to say there weren't those that knew how to do it, and there were plenty who were immediately savvy, but Kaitlin saw it as me leading the charge.

Thus, Robcasting.

I liked it. I laughed at it. I used it as a hashtag. But as time went on, and I thought about starting a podcast* or my own internet feed, friends began to push for the Robcasting moniker.

I didn't want to use it.

I fought it. They won.

*Incidentally, there is a Robcast, and it's not hosted by me.

Since then, people that I know who get the concept of marketing and branding have told me they love it.

I still resisted. They told me I was nuts, and to use it.

Initially, what had been Greenwich Sentinel Radio evolved into Robcasting. In short, it was my baby, and mine alone.

So OK. Robcasting it is.

While sitting at Trumbull High School in July, calling the 2017 Babe Ruth Regional Tournament (and hopefully more of that is coming in 2018), my great friend AJ Szymanowski emailed me the above logo.

Totally out of the blue.

We (me, Jake Zimmer, Dan Gardella, and Shawn Sailer) saw it in the booth and were blown away.

Then, the other day, I was working on getting ready for upcoming games, when I decided it was time for "Robcasting Radio" on Twitter. I told AJ that I was looking for ideas for an avatar.

"Hold on," he said.

Bang.

Oh yes. Yes that will do quite nicely.

It made its debut Monday night on http://mixlr.com/robcasting-radio/ and is now the logo on our Twitter feed.

It's awesome. Thanks, AJ, Kaitlin, Kait, and everyone else.

Last thing, and I don't want to forget this. WGCH is a supportive partner in this endeavor. They've allowed me to use equipment, wifi, and would even host the widget on their page if they could. We've often talked about a "WGCH 2" webstream. This is sort of that.

Voices Change (He's Grown Up)

On Friday, I was asked by WGCH to record a new version of my holiday greeting. You often hear them on radio stations, as in this:

"Hi this is Seymour Butts, General Manager of Wacky Radio, and I hope you have a Happy Festivus..."

You get the idea.

Anyway, I was asked to do one back in 2008, and I decided to enlist Sean to help me. We were able to do a 10 second liner that ran for years.

Well, as I said, I was asked for a new version on Friday. So Sean and I obliged.

Listen below to the two versions, and hear exactly how much Sean's voice has changed in nine years.