Chronicling my world since 2006! This is your source for a mix of sports, pop-culture, history, roads, music, current events, movies, entertainment, and life. Jump on board as we keep moving forward.
Which, OK, fine. Gary Cohen -- the revered TV "voice" of the Mets -- did a fist pump and proved he's a homer. Honestly, it's not a big deal. Gary is a great broadcaster of course.
But...
John Sterling (and Michael Kay) get lambasted should they show any bias for the Yankees.
The utter hypocrisy of this is hysterical.
*****
To be clear, I detest homer broadcasters.
I honestly can't think of a single time I pumped my fist or high-fived someone in the booth for a big moment. Sure, there's the joy of pride in a particular call, but never in rooting for a team.
Chris Erway and I have punched fists over a good broadcast opening. I remember Ryan DeMaria once complimenting a particular call during a break. AJ Szymanowski has done the same.
But rooting? No.
Oh, there's no question that you want the team you're with to do well, but mostly because that means more work. More games to call!
I truly believe in being 50/50 when calling a game, but short of that, it's 55/45. I know Mike Hirn, for instance, has said 60/40 is acceptable, and I understand that.
But there's something to being professional, and I have preached that dislike of bias to every student of mine. Simply because you go to school there doesn't mean you have to act your dog has died when "your" team loses.
Save that for when you're off the air.
For whatever reason, once the microphone is live, I see laundry. I see two teams. Tonight it was Wilton/New Canaan for the FCIAC boys lacrosse championship. Wilton was probably the better "story" in that they pulled off a huge upset in beating national power Darien in the semis. They also haven't won the title in 20 years.
For me, there's the joy in the roar of the crowd. Yes, that's a "Vin Scully" thing for sure, but it's what I believe in. When calling the game-winning hit of the FCIAC baseball championship on Wednesday night, I did what I normally do. In the industry, we call it "laying out."
In case you're wondering, that's WWPT broadcasting duo talking in the background. As student broadcasters, they were obviously excited for their classmates.
I was once asked to not get excited when the "opposing team" scored. I felt it was a compliment, and that I was doing my job the right way.
And so that's my style.
Some like being a homer. Some don't.
I'll be at the Greenwich Town Party with Sean tomorrow. Listen live on WGCH beginning at 11 a.m.
More than once, I've told someone that I feel like #Project365 has actually made me a worse writer because I don't feel as strong as I used to on getting my thoughts out there for consumption.
However, to John's point, there's also that point where I find myself wondering if the topics will dry up.
There are many nights where I've forgotten or am simply running out of time. I've even gotten out of bed because I forgot to write.
As of today, the topics have not run out. I've found my muse in a variety of places.
I've found a way, and I know John will also.
Then again, there are topics I'd love to attack that I know would only bring me grief. That -- right there -- is the very thing that nearly killed this blog up until the end of last year.
So I guess what I'm saying is that not every post is going to be the award-worthy.
Sigh. Just another day in Ned Lamont's Connecticut.
There's a rant buried herein about tolls, but there are others who speak far more informed than I do. I'm just a dopey sports broadcaster.
I saw the line of vehicles as I approached the Mianus River Bridge heading towards Old Greenwich on Interstate 95. It was the usual combination of trucks, cars, SUV's, motorcycles and so on.
Again, just another day.
As I slowed up, I saw it in my mirror. It was a black Volkswagen -- probably a Jetta -- swerving and swaying from the left lane into the center, with a target on me.
I wondered if I should fly into the right lane. The left was occupied.
A quick decision was needed, and it actually looked like momentum would move him into the right lane.
I stayed, and braced, with my foot ready to gun the engine as necessary.
Would he flip over? Would there be an impact with me?
I don't think my life actually flashed before my eyes, but "Oh s**t!" went through my brain.
Then it all settled down. He got control of the car and put himself in traffic behind me.
I began to do a mental inventory. All was fine.
The driver was young. Probably a college student, based on the UConn parking permit in the front window. He wore a backward baseball hat and a tie-dye T-shirt.
He seemed nonplussed about the whole thing.
I, on the other hand, was still a little shaky.
He continued to stay in the lane behind me as we sat in traffic, watching vehicles weave to get an advantage.
So was our wayward Volkswagen on his phone and didn't see the vehicle stopped ahead of him in the left lane?
Did the car in front of him stop short?
Does it matter?
Since all ended well, I suppose the answer is no.
It's amazing how it can all look bad in a flash and then totally swing back the other way.
I've got the FCIAC Championship baseball game tonight. I'll be there.
Two versions of Grumpy Cat belong to Sean. It's miserable.
The news of the passing of the internet sensation nicknamed "Grumpy Cat" grabbed me.
Sure, I appreciated the laugh-out-loud banality of the memes and greeting cards and merchandise.
But I knew Sean would be sad. That's where it hit me.
I texted him as soon as I read the news.
"You're kidding," he texted back.
I took his stuffed animal down from the shelf in his room, and the small one that hangs on his wall and left them up against his pillow.
"Are you trying to make me sad?" he asked.
He laughed after that.
Still, it was sweet to see him holding on to one of the things from his youth.
We watch our kids grow up and often lose their sense of youth. The snuggly Sean is long gone. The days of "kisses, tickles, and hugs" every night has been replaced by often not even saying goodnight.
There was a time where he would have wanted me to wake him when I got home. No more, and that's OK. Time moves on and it's healthy.
So to see him care about a seven-year-old cat with feline dwarfism whose real name was Tardar Sauce was truly sweet.
But I knew he would. Sean, you see, loves cats. He loved Fred, the cat I had when he was born, and is now crazy about Chico, the adult cat who joined us a few years ago.
The Bruins allowed me to tag along on the bus -- something I'd like to see more of. Many families don't want to go to the road games so it's convenient to have the broadcaster go along, and riding the bus is an economical move that works for all parties.
But...let's circle back to that.
The bus ride was peaceful. I kept to myself as the players and coaches did their own thing. I'm sure many were wondering who the strange dude was in the third row. A straight shot up 684, which ends straight onto 22, then a right at Amenia on 343 and a left onto 41 and we were soon there. The whole trip took about two hours.
The Berkshire campus is beautiful, with scenic hills and mountains serving as a backdrop. We drove past the lacrosse field before being let off at the athletic center, which meant walking back across campus to the field.
No worry, as it was a beautiful day.
Joe, my trusty Local Live cameraman, was waiting, and completely unaware that I'd be there. I soon faced the reality: this field had no power.
No lights, no press box, no sound system, and a limited scoreboard.
It looked like I had taken a ride to plug a microphone into his camera and call the game. The duffel bag of equipment (as well as my computer and so on) seemed unnecessary.
Eventually, we walked to a house (yes, a house on campus) right behind the small set of bleachers we were stationed on. A gentleman stood outside tending to his flowers. We asked about power nearby.
"If you have enough extension cord, I'll plug you in inside my front door," he said.
And so he did.
Power. All set.
All concerns were erased and the broadcast proceded. I was able to make do with minimal cell service (it's bad up there) and produced a Robcasting audio call (see below).
The game went on, I packed up and walked back to the athletic center where goalie Christian Barnard's mom was handing out sandwiches.
She was kind enough to give me a chicken parm (and thank you!).
For the next two hours, we drove back to Brunswick as the players laughed and sang and watched college lacrosse.
A happy atmosphere for sure, and I'm glad nobody seemed bothered by the infiltrator.
I said my thank you and drove away.
Thank you to Brunswick isn't quite enough, but it's the best I've got.
In the end, it looks like I did 35 games between football, soccer, hockey, basketball, lacrosse, and baseball for Brunswick in 2018-2019. While that will never be enough for me, I still enjoyed what I got to call.
I lost a few games due to the hockey tournament in New Jersey. I lost a few more due to cancellations and schedule snafus. Others were, frankly, my own fault (and something that will always bug me). And I lost a couple of others to...well...I just lost a couple of others.
I probably could have done over 40-50 in the end.
Still, I'd love to see it be even more, but there are reasons for what it is.
Frankly, it's a lot more than I did this year for Greenwich High, and that's astounding to consider (for what it's worth).
I've come a long way with Brunswick. Even if people don't know my face (they mostly do not) they seem to know my voice, and that's a good thing. They also know my name.
People generally don't realize that I was a part of a broadcast with Brunswick 20 years ago, and I've been around ever since.
So where there's a will, there's a way, and that's why I like to travel. We'll find a way to make it happen (even if some situations are worse than others).
I apologize for not getting to know the players and coaches enough. I'm hoping to improve on that as we move forward, and Joe Early has done an incredible job of feeding me info to improve my knowledge base.
14-1, Brunswick
So thank you, Brunswick, for another year. I appreciate how I've been welcomed to the very fringe of being a part of the family. I'm honored to serve as your lead play-by-play announcer and look forward to seeing what 2019-2020 has in store for us.
Thank you, families, players, and coaches, as well as staff. Enjoy your summer, best wishes to the graduates, and we'll see you soon.
First, I'm jumping on a team bus tomorrow to head to Massachusetts with Brunswick, as the Bruins finish the lacrosse season against Berkshire. Game time is 3 p.m via Local Live.
On Sunday, I'll get together with Greenwich High School football again as the Cardinals get their state championship rings. The day begins at 4 p.m. with a youth clinic and a parents symposium. Then I'll help host the ring ceremony at 5 p.m.
Then, my FCIAC load will give me the FCIAC baseball semis and championship game on Monday and Wednesday from Stamford. I'm thrilled to be back on the call of FCIAC baseball after two years away. I will admit that this was a goal.
Local Live is the exclusive broadcaster for the FCIAC semifinals and championships.
There's a chance I might also jump on lacrosse (probably in Section One in New York) later in the week, but we'll see.
Then -- officially -- after that? Who knows?
Again, I want to keep filling up my schedule with games. So reach out and let's see what we can do.
There's been interest from Little League, American Legion, Cal Ripken, and Babe Ruth baseball. Hopefully lots more.
The Clubhouse is also trying to return but my schedule has sort of been mucking up that water. We're hoping for the next show on May 29th and more in June, but check your local listings (such as Facebook or Twitter).
Lastly, I've been sitting on this one, but I'm excited to say that I'm hosting the Greenwich Town Party on WGCH for the third year in a row. My co-host will be none other than Sean Adams! He's a young musician in his own right, and I thought he'd be the perfect sidekick for the gig. We're expected to go on the air at 11 a.m. but again, follow along on social media for more.
So that's everything for now.
Here's the Ketcham/Mahopac broadcast from yesterday.
There are things that are astounding as to why they are popular (various musicians, movies, and TV shows apply).
While TBBT is crazy popular, it's also crazy disliked.
I loved it, though it took reruns to get me onboard (which isn't uncommon for me).
TBBT was my comfort food. In the moments of loneliness, when sometimes all I could do was watch TV, I took solace in these characters as background noise.
Leonard, Sheldon, Penny, Raj, and Howard (and later on Amy and Bernadette) gave me countless lines that cracked me up, and that I'd continue to laugh at in subsequent viewings.
Paul Silverfarb and I would text each other if a particular episode was on.
Sean and I would roar when one of us would like at the sky and say, "Stars are pretty, aren't they?"
If you didn't know The Big Bang Theory, it wouldn't make sense. To us, it did.
I don't kid myself that TBBT was Seinfeld or M*A*S*H or All in the Family. It wasn't The Soprano's.
It didn't need to be.
Was it time to end it? Yes, frankly, I think it was. The characters had gone far enough. They had changed, and not necessarily for the better. For instance, I found Bernadette tougher to like as she got meaner. Amy also stopped being as awkward and that took away some of her charm.
Goodbyes are still difficult.
But I still hate that damn theme song.
No bazinga there.
*****
While on the topic of goodbyes, it looks like I said two farewells this week for the season.
The Brunswick baseball team lost its FAA semifinal game yesterday to Hamden Hall, and Mahopac ended its regular baseball season today (I doubt I'll see them in the playoffs).
I don't have the eloquence to express exactly what these programs mean to me. It's a blast to cover them, and I hope I continue to build good things with each team.
I really like what has happened through Robcasting Radio beginning to work with Mahopac High School. Not only is it my hometown and my old high school, but it's a grassroots thing that has a little life to it. I have a feeling there's a future there, and I just hope I'm a big part of it.
I'm trusted with the words to describe Brunswick, Mahopac, Fairfield Prep, St. John's, Yale, the FCIAC, Section 1, and of course Greenwich High School. I'd certainly love to have the job of being the lead for any one of these places, but I'm grateful to all of them for having me around.
My original point was to acknowledge both Brunswick and Mahopac baseball. Thank you both.
Dan is in the background. Joe Early is partially obscured
I'm back from the Darien/Brunswick lacrosse showdown and my computer doesn't work. Might be the battery. At least I hope that's all.
So I'm writing on my iPad.
Brunswick was the better team tonight, and I hope to show you the video as I called the game with Dan Arestia and Damian Andrew via Local Live as well as DAF Media.
Perhaps once I get my computer running again, I can embed the broadcast in this post.
I was thrilled to work with Dan Arestia (my old HAN Network colleague and friend) as well as Damian Andrew and the DAF Media crew.
Brunswick picked up the non-conference win, which I suppose resolves the question of who's better for now, but it was a well-played game at a very high level. I hope they do it again next year, and would love to be back with DAF Media again soon.
But for now, I'll settle down and call it a night. Onto Mahopac baseball tomorrow, though Brunswick baseball is done for the year. There might be one more Brunswick lacrosse broadcast.
I'm still dry at that point (Photo courtesy Joe Early)
It's May 14, and it's 47 degrees.
We've just finished our third straight day of heavy rain showers.
Did I mention it's May and it's 47 degrees?
It messes with the baseball season, and the FAA quarterfinal game that I was supposed to call yesterday got moved to today. But we made it work for the matchup between Brunswick and St Luke's. Joe Early grabbed a Brunswick Cross Country tent that kept us pretty dry. The Bruins won 12-2.
I'll shift back to lacrosse tomorrow as the Bruins host Darien in a long-awaited matchup. I'm happy to say that my former HAN Network colleague Dan Arestia is joining me for the call and that I'll be a part of the Darien Athletic Foundation (as well as Local Live) tomorrow night.
Thursday brings me back to Mahopac for the (likely) final time for baseball this season, though I'd also love to see Mahopac softball. It's cool to say I was aware of their superstar pitcher Shannon Becker before she became all the rage last week. CBS News has more on Shannon and her "perfect perfect" game.
Friday will possibly take me back to Brunswick or Trumbull for baseball.
There might be something on Saturday, and then?
Well, I hope the FCIACs with Local Live. After that, it's hard to say, though I'm kicking a few tires to see what else.
There's plenty of baseball if people are interested.
June, July, and August (especially August) can be dicey.
And, believe it or not, I'm already chomping at the bit for football schedules.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Back here at the nerve center of Exit 55 mayhem, I found myself taking a really active interest in this basketball team called the Knicks. Truth be told, I've been a Knicks fan for roughly 40 years, though it's not the Yankees-level fandom.
They've so ripped my soul that I try to not get too invested in them.
I watched with hope that they'd get the number one pick in the draft lottery tonight.
They got the third pick.
There's still talent at the third pick, so I guess there's hope. New York hardly defines "long-suffering" though you might feel differently if you knew your history around these parts.
Jets: last title, 1969
Knicks: 1973
Nets: Er...they won an ABA title in 1976
Islanders: 1983
Mets: 1986
Rangers: 1994
If you wish to expand further, there are the Buffalo Sabres and Buffalo Bills to include.
The Devils, Giants and the ... ahem ... Yankees have seen a little more recent success, though ten years since the Bombers' last title feels like an eternity.
Anyway, this is sort of a babbling-type of a post. Sorry for that.
The NBA playoffs are on.
The Yankees (who have done a terrible job with weather-related changes) are not.
But the NHL playoffs are on. The Bruins are playing the Hurricanes. Doc and Edzo are on the call.
Doris Day died today. Among those who could be "America's Girl Next Door," Ms. Day was a legitimate movie star, as well as a singer and TV star, along with an animal lover and (I hate this word) activist.
Few ever had a bad word to say about Ms. Day (born Doris Mary Ann Kappelhoff).
Among her co-stars were Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Rock Hudson, James Cagney, Ronald Reagan, Frank Sinatra, Clark Gabel Jack Lemmon, David Niven, James Garner, and Robert D. Adams Sr.
Wait. What?
Doris Day -- renowned for her role in Alfred Hitchcock's The Man Who Knew Too Much, and the wildly popular song "Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)" -- appeared in a 1962 movie called That Touch of Mink. Cary Grant, Gig Young, Audrey Meadows, and John Astin are some of the co-stars in the romantic comedy.
At approximately 1:29:25 in the movie, Day and Astin are in a vehicle driving along when a red truck goes rolling by. You can't miss it. In fact, it's quite prominent. After driving by it, Day leans out of the window of the vehicle being driven by Astin, as if looking for either Cary Grant or the truck.
That truck was driven by my dad.
Here's the way I remember it. I mentioned the movie was in passing to him one night. Ever proud, yet low-key, he said, "I'm in that movie," as if he had also just grabbed a cup of coffee.
Literally no big deal.
After I picked my mouth off the floor, he told me the details. I don't know why I remember him telling me that his scene was filmed in New Jersey, and maybe another family member can correct me.
I recall that he told me the film crew told him to just drive through and act naturally. So he did, got it in one take (an Adams trait!) and moved along with whatever delivery that he was making.
By that point, he had been married for nearly five years and had two kids. Number three wouldn't come along for another six years.
He was proud of those little ties, such as delivering plumbing supplies to Jackie Gleason, having a beer with Bill Haley, and seeing Gene Kelly and Walter Matthau on the set of Hello Dolly in Putnam County -- but don't ask about Barbra Streisand. Yet it was never a big deal. It just gave him fodder to talk about.
It wasn't a big deal beyond that.
The film was the fourth-highest grossing film of 1962.
Whenever I think of Doris Day, I will always think of That Touch of Mink and my dad.
Unless you're nowhere near Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, a TV, radio, smart device, Hallmark store, Wal Mart, Target, or literally anywhere in the United States...
Then you probably know it's Mother's Day.
I'm going out on a limb here.
So we here at the Exit 55 nerve center wish all of the moms a happy day. Mothers are in all styles, shall we say.
Yes, there are the biological moms, like mine, who has been stuck with me for over 50 years now and more often than not wants to choke the ever living life out of me but then who would she text while he was in the middle of a broadcast?
(For the sarcasm-impaired, please know that this is indeed sarcasm. For the record, I tried to say, "We'll talk about it later." Of course, I found a break between faceoffs to give her the answer she was looking for.)
The are stepmoms and mothers-in-law and pet moms and women who simply like to mother people even if they're not mothers. All deserve respect and acknowledgment today and every day.
My mom -- along with my dad -- are responsible for my holding doors and showing basic respect and standing for the National Anthem and working hard countless other things that somehow I have done correctly.
What my mom did absolutely not give me is my sense of direction. Honestly, she wouldn't know Cheshire, CT from a Cheshire cat. She'll just keep driving north, figuring she'll run into Interstate 84 eventually, never mind the sign that says "Canadian Border 1000 Feet."
"I knew I had been driving a long time," she'll say.
We love our parents regardless. More often than not, I think she deserves far better than she has gotten, but there's also therapy for that.
In all seriousness, Happy Mother's Day to the many wonderful women in our lives who have rounded us and supported us. We know we can't thank you enough. To those missed today, know that you're in our hearts.
I feel very fortunate to have my mom, sister, friends and other mothers in my life whom I admire.
Stress? Germs? Too much hockey and too much talking?
Maybe. Who knows, and really, does it matter?
So I did the (nearly) unthinkable: A lot of nothing.
I watched baseball. Hockey. M*A*S*H. I took a few walks outside. I sat in a chair and talked to Paul.
This was simply fate (and schedule) coming together. I passed on a few games this weekend (a variety of reasons and fate agreed), so here I am.
One thing to note: I'm fiercely proud of the number of games I've done, but the number is truly irrelevant. You can broadcast 500 games a year but if the quality is meh, then what's the point?
I've done 104 (approximately) since last September. I've probably lost another 20 to circumstances (weather, conflicts, and let's just say money and leave it at that).
I have a smart audience.
So it's just Chico and me in the homestead. He comes in, meows, sleeps, meows some more, pushes for food, and sleeps.
Then he'll disappear. Then he'll return. And repeat.
In that regard, he's perfect (or purr-fect, but my god, I cringe just typing that).
Pets, of course, are so smart. He wants company, and he has this insane ability to know when I need a friend.
So here we are.
And, as usual, he's dominating the space on my bed.
It's another one of those nights where there are things I want to write about, but know that I can't write about them.
So given it's after 11 p.m., and I only recently got home from a lacrosse game between two of the top 10 high school teams, basically, anywhere (and since I'm not feeling great), I'll keep things short tonight.
There are topics. There are always topics. But let's do something different tonight.
I've written -- openly -- about some of my struggles. I've been fascinated by the response (and sometimes, the lack thereof). In the months since I've opened up, I can say that I'm surviving. I'm worried about the summer, but we'll deal with that topic at another time.
I bring up my struggles not to make this about me. As a journalist, we're taught to not make it about us. I brought it up to segue to a story that I'd like you to read.
I've mentioned Susan many times here. I'll likely mention her many times again. I'm talking about her because she stressed and finessed her way through the writing of a story of addiction for the Darien Times. The story had its beginnings last Christmas, and I could see the idea going through her brain. Her dedication to this story astounded me to watch.
The writer, Christopher Bonanos, ranks "We Didn't Start The Fire" at 120, second from last. Given both exceptional friends Paul and Susan (with a nod to Mick) are in my Billy Joel trust zone, I will tell you that they are primarily pro-WDSTF, where I'm more meh. It served its purpose at the time.
I will say it gives plenty of love to the New York Yankees, as do several of his songs (and, yet, people think he's a Mets fan. Bwahahahahahahahaha).
Again, I don't have the energy to break down all 121 songs, but "We Didn't Start the Fire" at 120 is, well, come on.
"Stop in Nevada" is at 105? I might want to stop before I get mad.
"She's Right On Time" is at 92. Many don't get this song. I fell in love with it back in probably 1983. It has a video (never his strong suit -- name me a great Billy Joel video), but that's the most it got airplay. It has always sat strong with me in his catalog, and somehow I discovered Susan loved it also. She is literally the only other person that I've ever known that is passionate about that song.
"I've had to wait forever. But better late than never." Yes. This.
"A Matter of Trust" is at 86? Dude, come on. The Bridge is hardly his best album (those are easier to rank), but this is a huge highlight. I remember its debut on MTV and how it rocked.
We make our way to "Zanzibar" at 67. Again, I simply can't break every song down (not tonight, anyway). It's like the way that Shawn Sailer wants me to rank all Yankees play-by-play voices (hint: I know the bottom three, and I know number one) but finding the time is another story. As for "Zanzibar," there's a jazz edge here. That won me over because it felt different then. It still does.
Let's not talk about “Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)” at 61. I'll allow that I built a CD of songs that I put Sean to bed with every night. This song was on it. Tears are falling as I'm typing. Got it?
60: "Shameless." God...damn...passion. And screw Garth Brooks, Chris Gaines, and so on.
57: "Sometimes a Fantasy." You see, Glass Houses was the album for me. While I loved 52nd Street (the first album of his I bought), I wore out my first copy of Glass Houses on vinyl. A not-quite-perfect album.
50: "All For Leyna." What was that I was just saying about Glass Houses? Thirty-nine years later, I still crank this one.
37: "Laura." Yes, I have a sister with the same name. She's not this messed up. Another reason why The Nylon Curtain sits near the top of my favorite albums of his.
Wait. This writer put "James," the most '70s sounding song IN THE HISTORY OF SEVENTIES-SOUNDING SONGS at 36? It's the single song the pulls Turnstiles down.
I shouldn't be getting hung up on his rankings. OK, trying to keep this moving along...
"Summer, Highland Falls" is at 27. I'd go higher with this one (yes, I'm obsessing with his ranking), and the opening line -- "They say that these are not the best of times. But they're the only times I've ever known" -- is among his best and most-quoted. Incidentally, as a non-religious person (and thus "Only The Good Dies Young gets major points) the next line -- "And I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own" -- is brilliant.
Sorry. This post is getting long.
We reach "The Stranger" at number 16, and I can't find a bad song on the album of the same name. The lines -- "Well, we all have a face that we hide away forever. And we take them out and show ourselves when everyone has gone" -- has been given more meaning to me over the past decade.
A note about "Leave a Tender Moment Alone" at number 11. Susan loves it. I'm fine with it. This is too high of a ranking for me, but it's sweet. Another person (no, it's not Paul or Mick) walked up one day and, essentially, told Susan to never play it again. That is a true story.
At number nine (number nine, oops, sorry, wrong artist) is "I Don't Want To Be Alone." Oh. My. God. Yes. Again, it's about lines. "She said she'd meet me in the bar at the Plaza hotel. Wear a jacket and a tie." I remember hearing those lines back in 1980. One day, I hope to hear the same.
"Vienna" is at number 8. Literally, any Billy Joel fan (I think) will say to make this top five. Maybe even top three. It is absolutely gorgeous. Paul played it in front of me on a beautiful piano in Boston once. My own shyness (and fear of being heard) kept me from singing it. So I stood there. Mesmerized.
I'll politely say "Just The Way You Are" should be much much much lower. Much. Again. It defines the '70s. Not that it's a bad thing (or song).
“Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway)” is at seven. In my world, I think (I'm spitballing here) that "Miami 2017," "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant," and "Vienna" would somehow make up my top three. I raise a glass -- any glass -- when I reach the line, "And picked the Yankees up for free" (and the crowd goes wild).
In the case of Christopher Bonanos, the writer of the ranking of all Billy Joel songs, numbers three to one are "New York State of Mind," "Only The Good Die Young, and "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant." My goodness. Three classics.
"NY State" is in the best ever category about New York. It's not, however, "Theme From New York, New York" but that takes nothing away from it. I know "New York State of Mind" would be in my mind if I were to ever leave and long from my hometown. I wouldn't rank it this high, but it's still great. I wish Billy would back off the sax as much as he uses it live (and on the 1985 Greatest Hits remix).
But then again, I wish Liberty DeVitto were still his drummer.
I can't lie. I had an aunt named Virginia (though known as Jean). She was, indeed, Catholic. So, yeah, tee hee.
"Scenes." Yes. That will do quite nicely. I wanted a bottle of red and a bottle of white in honor of Billy's birthday today, but we can't have everything, can we?
As for the albums, I'll take this: 1) The Stranger, 2) Glass Houses, 3) The Nylon Curtain. Probably 52nd Street fourth and Turnstiles fifth. Or Piano Man. They get mixed up after the top three. River of Dreams is probably last.
Anyway, happy birthday Billy. Thanks for the music. You were one of the first artists that I felt like I made my own, as opposed to being brought up on The Beatles. You continue to bring me together with people to this day.
Eight hockey games, two world championships included, along with a five-hour drive (that should take about 2.5 hours) will run a person down.
So here I am, back in the real world.
I don't do things halfway, as I've said before. I also don't relax a lot when I travel.
Given this was work, there was little chance for relaxation.
So I'm home, with a cat who is happy to see me.
I'll do Doubleheader tomorrow, and get back with a lacrosse game on Friday. Then I'm taking the weekend off. Oh, wait. I'm never allowed to take a break. I could work, but then how would my mother get out to enjoy Mother's Day?
I'm her chauffeur, for the record.
So I'll be out on Sunday for sure.
On another note, have you wished an appropriate happy birthday to #Project365 (364 to him) co-conspirator John Nash?
Anyway, before I fall asleep, I'll shut down.
I leave Voorhees, NJ with a lot of memories, and the knowledge that I'm already wanted back for 2020, with possibly even more games.
I'm doing something right.
Blue Army won the U16 championship. Draftday Black won the U15 title.
The scoreboard tells the story of Draftday Black's U15 championship
I thought I was supposed to call four games today.
I even wrote that here a few nights ago.
I finessed my way through four games of hockey, and I don't go halfway on such things. They're called with full energy.
During the fourth game of the day, I said how it was "the last game of the day." Nobody texted me and said, "Er, dude. You know there's one more, right?"
But then, it's not on anyone else, but the guy inside the Phantoms Rink at the Skate Zone in Voorhees, NJ*.
Neither Michael Myers or Jamie Lee Curtis were anywhere to be found.
*Did you know there's a Haddonfield, NJ? Did you know it's a beautiful town, and the Haddonfield in Halloween is based on Haddonfield, NJ? Nor did I -- until today. Michael Myers for the win!
So I wrapped up the fourth game. My throat was not pleased with me. The honey lemon drops were needed.
Then two more teams hit the ice. I noticed Dan Long, calling games in the Flyers Rink, was still going.
Uh oh. Did I blow it?
I rifled off two quick texts: one to Daquan Cole at Local Live and one to LL colleague John Malone. Both great guys.
Overall, the answer was, "Yes, dummy. Get back on the air."
So I did, called the rest of the fifth game of the day, finished with an overtime winner, and took the headset off.
I literally grabbed the rosters from a pack, learned the teams on the fly, and proceeded with the call. That's what we do. That's why we don't script it. We're prepared to adjust.
I was mortified but had to get the job done.
"Are we done now," I asked Phil from Legacy Global Sports, which puts the tournament on.
"Yes. Did you eat? Go get some food!"
So I did. For what little it's worth, that fifth game was my 100th since the school broadcast year started on September 8 last year. I realize there are those who call more. I hope the quality of what I do -- along with the quantity -- all balances out.
The rink was dark. That's how early I was.
It was a full day, beginning with my arrival a little after 6:30 this morning. I found the rink facility was open and got to work setting up. The Legacy Global Sports crew wasn't there yet, and the rinks were dark!
Dan, I was told, was bringing a headset. That wouldn't do, so I grabbed a backup mixer (because, me) and set him up in the Flyers Rink. Daquan and I got to work just after 7 a.m. doing sound checks both in my rink and Dan's.
Soon all was good.
Then it was onto calling games. I actually got a (roughly) four-hour break and came back to the hotel, where I promptly collapsed for an hour.
I've since come back and edited each audio broadcast.
Game 7 of Blues/Stars is on as I type.
It's almost time for bed.
I was sorry to miss the Brunswick baseball game (and another one tomorrow), but this has been a great opportunity.
Instead of two games (one semi and one championship), I now have three games (one semi and two championships).
I'll crown the Under 15 and Under 16 titles tomorrow.
I don't take these honors lightly, so I'll talk to you then.
I picked up a rental car, called baseball at Brunswick, and am now in my hotel room in Cherry Hill, NJ.
I've already been to the rink and checked out the facilities. Everything looks good there. I think I'll be working the "Phantoms Rink" tomorrow and will be in the "Flyers Rink" on Wednesday.
Have I mentioned I love to drive? Like, love it? I don't mean commuting, but a road trip.
That's a babble for another time.
But I'll post this awful picture from dusk as I drove tonight. It's significant to road-types who have waited for Interstate 95 to be complete towards Philadelphia.
*The remarkable Susan (the horror expert) was only too happy to talk about Jason Voorhees of Friday the 13th fame when I told her about the trip to New Jersey. Plus given Camp Crystal Lake from the movie is in New Jersey, the above picture works perfectly fine. Further note: I wouldn't know much about this without knowing her.
So here's what I know about the trip:
I'm supposed to call games beginning at 8 a.m. Tuesday morning at Virtua Center Flyers Skate Zone at Voorhees. Basically, I'll call any moment of action that occurs in that rink (known as "Flyers Side").
I'll also call one semifinal on Wednesday morning before handling the championship Wednesday at 2 p.m.
Basically, that's about it.
There are always unknown issues when heading to a facility that I've never worked in.
Where will I set up? Where's my nearest power outlet? How much extension cord do I need? Do I need to tape things down? Is there a table I can use? A chair? Is there a program? Will I need a credential? Will I get grief trying to get in and out of the arena? Does the arena even know that I'll be there? Where am I supposed to plug in my audio controls to sync with the video?
Is there a PA announcer? Can I set up a wireless microphone near the PA or a speaker to hear their announcements? How will my view of the rink be? Will I have fans surrounding me?
Will food be available? Are there any media accommodations (food/drink/etc)? Where's the nearest restroom?
Will there be wifi or a hardline internet setup?
How early can I get in to set up? Is there any way for me to print things (either at the rink or at my hotel)? For that matter, what hotel am I heading to? What name is the reservation under? Should I bring a blanket and be ready to sleep in the car?
(I'm kidding about most of that paragraph)
In the play-by-play world, adapting to change and being ready for anything is crucial. This is especially true at levels below the pros Div I of college sports.
And sometimes there also.
The truth is, after all these years, I'm used to this. I expect the worst and hope for the best. I prepare as best as I can in terms of equipment, notes, pens, etc. But as you can see, a lot is out of my control.
So I hope to finish calling Poly Prep/Brunswick tomorrow and hit the road to the hotel, with hopefully a chance to look into the rink as well.
All of the answers will come together in due time. There's no need to panic yet, though I do need the answer to the most important question...
Where's the nearest Wawa?
Answer: there are three within 10 minutes of the rink.
The nearest Waffle House in 57 minutes away, in Maryland.
Excitement at the Finish Line store in the Poughkeepsie Galleria at 8 a.m.
Just another crazy day.
The Marvelous Mr. Sean Adams opened the day by taking the SAT this morning in Wappingers Falls, NY. His father (me) was up early (there's a shock) to have him at RC Ketcham High School before 8 a.m.
However, I saw no point in going back to Mahopac, so I amused myself at Target...sitting in my car...walking around Dick's Sporting Goods...a few laps around the Poughkeepsie Galleria (including before the mall actually opened)...a trip to Goodwill (I got an electronic component switch for $3)...and back to Ketcham, where I napped in the parking lot.
But let's get to sports. We start with the Kentucky Derby.
No, really. What in the hell happened.
I had people all into it. After making picks on The Clubhouse on Wednesday, I had a son, mother, and niece into making predictions and watching the race.
We all at dinner in the living room to make sure we were near the TV.
Then Stephanie's (my niece) predicted horse won.
Then he didn't.
Just astounding. The more I read and understand, the more it seems like the right decision has been made. But, wow.
But I also want to talk about how stupid fans are.
I was watching the Yankees game today, and J.A. Happ didn't have his best stuff. He battled into the sixth and left trailing 4-0. I heard what sounded like boos on TV when Happ was pulled from the game.
I was angry (run down from frustrations with my tractor and getting the law mowed didn't help), so I tweeted this:
I'd like one #Yankees fan to explain to me why they booed Happ just now. Because you can? Because you expect perfection? It's a joke -- regardless of team. Be better than that.
Why yes, "Nik" (hope you're OK with that name) you're entitled to do a lot of things. You can wear a pinstripe jersey with a player name on the back in you want.
I didn't tell you otherwise. But...I have a right to say what I said.
That being said, you never explained, so why respond to me. Why -- if it's your team -- do you boo player? Do you honestly think they're not doing their best on the field? Is it about a player's salary? Is there some other nonsensical reason?
I've never understood it. The player is on the team you root for!
So, again, I ask: Why?
Maybe this time you can explain it.
So you boo simply because you can? Brilliant! I never thought of that.
Then we wonder why the world hates us. (I mean, there's jealousy, but still)
Every fan base has idiots like this, who think that booing players is the answer.
I don't. To be crystal clear. Especially players who are obviously trying.
So I'm serious. Why do you boo players on your team?
It's the second year in a row that I'll be on the call of the championship, but my role has increased for this year.
Last year, I called a semifinal game and the championship from the Local Live studio in Stamford.
There were certainly advantages to doing so, including the comfort of a quiet studio and staying home. However the feel of being there is gone, and it was tough to get a feel for the crowd and other nuances.
I'm sure this will come as no surprise to anyone, I always prefer to be on-site.
Trust me, I'm grateful for any call. But being there is a whole different world. I wouldn't have complained either way, as it's an honor to be asked back, but I'm happy for the chance to head to Voorhees, New Jersey.
Oh, there are certainly things to consider, like where the "booth" will be and so on, but we'll cross that as we get closer.
Local Live has offered to let me stay down there, so I'll leave following my call of Poly Prep/Brunswick on Monday and drive down to the hotel to settle in for the night before a day full of games on Tuesday. The tournament actually begins tomorrow, but I'll be there for some of the quarters, as well as a semifinal game and the championship.
I'll provide more details, including where to watch/listen, as things get closer.
The classic lineup, circa 1984: Sean, Mario, Johnny, HL, Bill, Chris
I accept that most people don't see Huey Lewis and the News as a legendary band.
Some see them as a nice little '80s band.
Some actually dislike them.
Trust me, hearing them on the radio or streaming service is, at best, rare.
So most of the time, I'll take any attention to them as a good thing.
So then I saw this from Spin. It's a link to a cover of "The Power of Love," the 1985 song from the Back to the Future soundtrack.
Performed by Mark Kozelek and Sun Kil Moon, with guest singer and violinist Petra Haden, this take on the song is nothing like I've ever heard.
Gone is every touch of the '80s. Sean Hopper's keyboard style is nowhere to be found. Chris Hayes' jazz-infused guitar solo isn't around either.
The fire of the 1985 Academy Award-nominated track (I'm still bitter, so let's not discuss it) has been replaced by a quiet, subdued coffee-house track.
It's interesting. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
No question, the original can't be topped (in my opinion). Yet that being said, this is a whole new song.
Still ... I have to hear the original. Here it is, in glorious video form, as filmed at Uncle Charlie's, the place where they started north of San Francisco.
Just some of the attendees, which totaled upwards of 450 people.
I didn't sleep great last night and was up a little after 4 a.m.
I was out the door around 5:15 a.m.
A train took me into New York City and I was where I needed to be around 7 a.m.
By 8:30, I was "on," serving as the moderator for the Private Equity Recruiting conference at the Harvard Club in New York for Hunt Scanlon.
Pretty weird to be on that agenda.
Moderating means serving as a face and a voice of the event. I'm the one facing the crowd all day. I have to read the carefully crafted words that have been assembled for me to say, but I also have to keep the event on time all day.
It's a lot, but it's nothing compared to what the Hunt Scanlon crew does. I admire it greatly. Each one of those guys is a friend, and great to work with.
The reviews were humbling, to be honest, and much appreciated. Among some of the comments:
"Your voice is so soothing. You should be a golf broadcaster."
"Is he an actor?" (Yes, this was seriously said)
Anyway, a little after 4:45 p.m., I posed for a group photo and departed.
The trusty podium
Another train took me back to Mount Kisco, where I found my car. Then I went to Grand Prix New York for The Clubhouse.
I was there in plenty of time for the show. Then we had dinner, talked shop, and I drove home.
Oh, wait. Chico the very large gray cat needed food. So there was a grocery store stop to be made.
Then I drove home.
And here I am now.
Finally.
I hope I actually sleep.
See you tomorrow.
Completely worn out on the train back to Mount Kisco.
Forgive the short post tonight, as I have found a few minutes between items to do.
I called Hamden Hall and Brunswick today in a big baseball contest in the FAA.
I archived it and went to WGCH to leave a computer for tomorrow night's Clubhouse show (7 p.m.).
Then I went to Mount Kisco, because that's where The Clubhouse takes place and I need a place to park my car tomorrow. I'm heading into New York City for the day and wanted to make sure finding parking would be easy in the morning.
I'll be up and out early tomorrow morning to go to New York because I'm the moderator for a Hunt-Scanlon Conference. I get to do this a few times a year and it's a very enjoyable day.
Then I have to get the train back to Mount Kisco to join The Clubhouse broadcast at Grand Prix New York.
Then I'll get the computer back.
Then I'll go home and (hopefully) sleep.
Thursday and Friday await.
Watch this space for some more interesting news. Not Earth-shattering, but interesting nonetheless.
I played baseball in Mahopac for the Mahopac Sports Association from 1977-1987.
Other than bowling, I didn't play sports at Mahopac High School.
But when it came time to get my class ring, I elected to have a baseball player engraved on one side. As much as I loved being the captain of the bowling team -- and I'm still very proud of that -- I knew that I most-identified with baseball as a sport.
As teenagers are wont to do, I got mocked for doing so. Who was I to put baseball on my ring? I wasn't on the team. To be very clear, I didn't imply that I played baseball at MHS. It was just a baseball player figure.
Still, me being me, it bothered me. Maybe I shouldn't have done it. I wasn't trying to misrepresent anything.
Thirty-one years later, I finally began a relationship with Mahopac High School baseball when I called a few of their games on Robcasting Radio. I carried that into 2019.
Today, for the first time, I called a road game as the Indians played the Somers Tuskers. At the game, head coach Myckie Lugbauer presented me with a Mahopac Baseball Under Amour hoodie.
I can't stress just how happy I was to receive it, and how proud I'll be to wear it.
This is to take nothing away from my Mahopac Hockey hoodie, but hockey wasn't a thing at Mahopac when I went to school there.
I wanted to play baseball. I went out for the sport as a freshman (same with football) and didn't make it (ditto).
I never went back. I got talked out of it.
I'm not a part of Mahopac baseball now. I'm not at practices. I'm not a coach. I don't ride the bus. I don't sit in the dugout. I don't know the players.
But I do know the coaches, and I consider them friends. They've allowed me to be a part of their team, if even only from a distance. They've closed their door and trusted me in the way that other coaches have.
And I guess I'm maybe the...er...Mahopac baseball broadcaster.
It's been a wonderful experience. One that I'm grateful for.
I texted a picture of me wearing the hoodie to a friend.
"That one is special, I bet," came the reply.
"Indescribably," I said.
So maybe, over 30 years later, I've earned the right to have a Mahopac baseball logo on me.
*****
No matter what, I tell broadcasters to stay true to the craft. The game will always be the thing. It's not about the cute one-liners or anything else. It's the game.
Above all else, getting that game on the air is what matters.
I pulled into Somers a good 90 minutes before first pitch. I waited for the Somers AD to help get me electrical access before it seemed like it wasn't going to happen. So I went on about my business. I gathered lineups from both coaches, picked up my hoodie from the Mahopac coaches, and went back to the right field corner.
I scrawled down the lineups and prepared a backup system to call the game off my cell phone.
Then the AD showed up. The first pitch was thrown while we ran the power. I kept a mental scorecard and caught up as I set up. I was finally on the air with two out in the bottom of the first.
My view was unique.
Who cares? I was there. The game got on the air. And other than my telling the stories, nobody knew or cared.
Some of my brethren get so high and mighty about this (and other things). I had to call a game well over in foul territory in right field. Friends said I was in the "Uecker seats."
I was there. That was the best we could do. Somers was nice enough to have me there and help me.
Sometimes we have to manage our expectations. The perfectionist in me wanted to be on the air for first pitch. The listener just wanted the broadcast. All we can do is be honest and explain.
I called the game, did my best, and went home.
It's not about us.
It's about the game.
Mahopac lost 2-0. I'm likely no longer a good luck charm.
