Election Eve

 

Tomorrow is Election Day.

More specifically, it's my first Election Day as a Connecticut resident.

To be honest, I'm a little nervous because, like everything I do, I take the task of voting seriously. That doesn't mean I'm the only one who does.

It's that I'd like to feel educated about everything.

I first voted in Nov 1987 because I turned 18 after election day in 1986. Save for one year I've voted every year since then.

I've been trying to do some research for tomorrow for two reasons:

1) Of course, to place my own responsible votes, and

2) Because I'll be a part of election night coverage on WGCH at 8pm (wgch.com* if it's working).

I've told basically every broadcasting student of mine about the time back in 2000 when I was asked to go cover the 4th Congressional District race in Norwalk. At that time I was only doing sports and a little news as needed.

Now, as I explained to our then-news director Jim Thompson, I lived in New York and didn't have the first clue about Connecticut politics.

Jim was nonplussed. He said he'd help me and that I'd be doing him a big favor. Given my love of radio and WGCH (along with my respect for Jim), I couldn't say no so I gave it a shot.

I even wound up in the newspaper, as a photographer from the Norwalk Hour caught me in the background as the candidate I was covering hugged a supporter. I looked angry and flustered because, most likely, I was angry and flustered.

Basically, I had no idea what I was doing but I faked it to make it. Plus I needed the candidate for an interview with Jim.

And so began over 20 years of election night coverage. I've missed a few over the years due to other commitments but, otherwise, I've been found in numerous locations annually.

Among the best was the time that Chris Erway joined me and we went to the Greenwich Democratic headquarters at the old Horseneck Tavern (pour one out for the Horseneck). Well, things didn't go well for the Dems that night, so we were able to wrap up our coverage before being told to help ourselves to food and drink.

There have been years where it felt like nobody wanted to talk to the reporter from WGCH that nobody knew and there have been years that were a little more productive.

Last year was just ... last year. Does that explain it?

But, still, every year I feel a sense of pride for dipping my toe back into hard news. Elections aren't an easy gig to cover. It has certainly changed though in that there isn't a crush of reporters anymore. I'll be among the few media members on-site tomorrow.

And this will be the first time where I'll be reporting for an election that I've voted on (not including national races, of course).

Like all of my jobs, I take this on with a great deal of responsibility, so of course, I hope it goes well. I don't know for sure where I'll be stationed (I'm guessing Greenwich Dems again) but one never knows.

As for my voting, I have a few ideas about what and who I'm going to vote for and I'm still deciding on the others. I'll work it all out in the morning.

It's amazing that anyone -- including me -- needs to explain how important it is to vote. There are ways to let your voice be heard and the most important is voting, however you do it. I won't tell you how I'm voting but I'll tell you that I vote with a conscience every year. I don't vote based on a party but on items and candidates that I believe in.

Choice. Yes, that's a fine word to use here. Choice.

We have a choice.

I will use my choice wisely.

Then I will help report the results.

Please vote. 

Then listen*.

*Remember the gremlins I wrote about last week that caused issues to knock WGCH off the air. Yeah, we're still scuffling. WGCH.com might not be functioning tomorrow night but I'm hoping it will be.

North Egg and The Red Light

I had an idea for a rather profound post about a red light.

Oh, I was ready but couldn't entirely steer it where I wanted it to go.

I was going to name-drop F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Great Gatsby.

If you don't know, Jay Gatsby had a green light he was fascinated with. It's an important use of symbolism in the book. Daisy -- the object of his desire -- has the light on her dock on East Egg. Gatsby can see it -- barely -- from his West Egg home.

Meanwhile, here in the fictional "North Egg..."

I have a red light. I can't often see it directly. Oh, I can if I walk outside, but from my windows, I can only see its reflection off nearby buildings.

In reading analysis of The Great Gatsby, one version is that the light is a symbol of hope.

That, frankly, I like. I know there are other, deeper, more intense breakdowns of it but I simply love the concept of it being about hope.

Hope, I know, is a dangerous thing.

I'll leave whatever the interpretation of the green light is to those smarter than me (that is, everyone).

I have a red light. You know, as in a stop light.

That's where this post reaches its failing point. While red might not be seen as a symbol of hope, I was going to try to tie it together, and, well, in the months since I came up with the idea of this post, it never quite coagulated for me.

If anything, my red light is a symbol of some of the worst in humanity.

Why? 

People honk when near it. 

Literally every day.

If traffic is heavier, the time of day would not matter.

I hear honking -- a sound I truly detest -- on a daily basis.

And, I have to admit, it digs deep into my soul where I want to confront those doing the honking.

I mean, why do it? Because someone didn't move fast enough for you? Because someone is walking across the road? What is the validation for you being a jackwagon?

It's pure impatience.

Of course, that's the answer. We're sadly such an impatient society so of course, the answer to a momentary stop in the day is cause for pushing a button to cause a shrill siren. Sure, that made it better!

So, I suppose if pessimism is your thing then you see a red light as stopping you. It's not a symbol of hopes and dreams then. Whether solid or flashing, a red light is a stop sign. It's an impediment.

I choose to see it as a speed bump. Sure, you have to slow up -- or even stop -- to get beyond it but it's not going to deter you (or me) from the destination.

Is stopping momentarily such a bad thing? I find stopping to be quite positive. Granted, not usually when I'm driving but let's not have that get in the way of this narrative!

The red light -- a stop light, to be sure -- is just there to let life continue to flow. It also allows for choices. Turn left? Turn right? Go straight?

But it's the proverbial "bump in the road." Gatsby probably could have used a red light, if only to "slow his roll" in modern terms.

But he was hellbent on his beloved Daisy.

I get it, Jay. I do.

But my light is red. I'll get past it someday.

Because of hope.

Senior Day and Senior Night

 

I'll admit it. I'm completely exhausted and fried.

I sort of just want to watch baseball, hope the season doesn't end tonight, and drift off to sleep.

So, let's keep things simple here.

It was the second of our football doubleheader days.

One game at Greenwich and one game at Brunswick.

Unlike the last time, I didn't go to Brunswick first to set up and leave equipment there. This time, I went straight to Greenwich High School.

I got there really early, parked my car, and went to the booth.

It, of course, was locked. The good news was it got unlocked soon after.

I set up. What used to take me an hour (no, really) now takes me mere minutes.

Then I sat down and read. I had plenty of time. Not long after Chris Erway arrived, I heard that I needed to move my car.

I confirmed if that was true. Yes, it sure was. The days of WGCH having a special parking spot are long over.

Chris and I took a walk, moved the car, and walked back into Cardinal Stadium while the senior day ceremony was going on.

As Sergot Boone was introduced, my eye shot down to the field.

Sergot is the son of Yankees manager Aaron Boone, so I looked to see if he was there.

Yankees manager Aaron Boone stands with his son and wife for a photo

Yes. For the record, he was. No, for the record, I didn't go down to see him.

As for the game? Well, Greenwich won. Easily. The final score was 59-6.

Chris and I quickly packed up and departed, though as we walked out, Chris nudged me.

Aaron Boone was right in front of us.

What would I say? That I support him (I do) but I don't understand why he went to Clarke Schmidt in Game 1 of the ALCS? Besides, I'd rather talk about Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS.

No. I walked by and we left. We were able to take a few minutes to have a small bite to eat before moving on to Brunswick.

Brunswick's senior night ceremony

Setup went easily there also.

That result was much closer and, to be honest, a better game. Brunswick won 20-16 and they had their senior night ceremony before the game.

I'd be lying if I said I felt great during the second game. I was, frankly, exhausted and felt like I couldn't coherently get words out.

But we did it. We called both games and (hopefully) did a good job.

We packed and left and said goodnight.

It's a good feeling to come home to a cat (as well as my son who has yet to notice I'm back) and stretch out in my chair after a rewarding day of a job well done.

The next game is Friday with Brunswick at Trinity-Pawling. Then, one Saturday, it's Greenwich at Boyle Stadium.

But, for now, I'm going to watch baseball.

Play Doubleheader For Me

 

Jessica Walter and Clint Eastwood in Play Misty for Me (1971)

It's the sound you don't want to hear.

I got to WGCH in the early afternoon. I brought lunch with me and hoped to eat while nosing around the world for things to talk about on the show.

But I was greeted by the sound of a piercing beep.

It was the dead air alarm. We were off the air.

I did the first thing I could think of, which was to get something on. 

Anything.

First, it was a few commercials while I thought about what to do. We could do anything that originated from the studio and that would be on the air.

Then, I turned on the mic and spoke while I loaded last week's Greenwich/Darien game. That would buy us upwards of three hours.  I could keep that going, basically, until my show was over at 5 p.m. After that, we'd potentially be back off the air.

The issue we were having was with the internet and, as such, we couldn't get the programming that should be on. An Optimum technician had been called before I got there and was at the station a few minutes after I arrived.

It took a little work but we were back on the air. I was able to go on the air at 4 p.m. for my show.

With both station engineer Clark Burgard and business manager Joy Marshall having left, I was alone.

I've been alone in radio stations before and, to be honest, they can be creepy.

I've literally been in radio stations at all hours. 

I made sure to lock the office door and get the show started. Though, to be honest, the door lock can be wonky.

I talked about sports and whatever other nonsense was on my brain.

Then, just after I came back from the break at 4:22 p.m., I noticed movement outside of the studio.

A ghost?

It was a woman.

Like, what? I'd locked the door to the office. At least I thought so. 

She strolled by the door several times as if she was investigating the rest of the suite.

My mind raced. I clearly struggled to make any sense on the air. Was she a contest winner? Was she there to complain about something? A disgruntled listener?

Was she a deranged fan, a la Play Misty for Me, the 1971 Clint Eastwood/Jessica Walter thriller about a radio DJ and a dangerous listener? 

She was starting to stalk the studio door, which was open as I prepared for the 4:30 break.

I turned off the mic.

"Does anyone else work here?" she began.

"No," I said. "Everyone is gone for the day." 

"I thought you'd at least have a nice receptionist," she countered.

"It's just me," I said with a smile, also recognizing that I was in a short break before I had to go back on the air.

There was honestly no need to explain why I was alone. She didn't need to know why Bob Small wasn't in the office or that the internet issues emptied the place out. We don't have a big staff. In fact, we haven't had many people around the office at 4:30 in the afternoon in years at this point.

She got to the point quickly. She was there because she had a flyer about a holiday bazaar from a local organization. 

"Would you promote the event and us?" she asked.

Sure. Of course, I would.

To be clear, I was never in any danger. In fact, this kind (though slightly befuddled) woman struggled to get to the second floor of the building, given we have no elevator in the building. I apologized for that.

She left the office and I continued the show. In fact, I promoted the bazaar upon coming back from the commercial break. I wrapped it up, got us to the network news at 5 p.m., and made sure programming ran without any issues.

No dead air. We were good. 

It was time to go home.

I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. I opened it.

It was locked. Just as I thought.

On the Other Side of the Glass

 

Before I was the sports director at WGCH I was a go-to board operator.

That's how I earned my microphone there (figure of speech).

When I joined the station in 1997, I was there to run the controls on a few Sunday morning programs as a fill-in. Eventually, that became my calling card.

Oh, you've got a show that needs someone to run the board? OK, I'll do it.

My goal was to be reliable and always available.

It didn't matter what the show was. I did all kinds of things and either didn't go on the mic or jumped in as needed. 

Bob Small -- Operations Manager and overall guru -- needed to be out of the office for a rare few days this week and I jumped in to help.

Most of what I needed to do was board-op.

But, as you might gather, the technology of 1997-2000 isn't exactly the same. In fact, we're not even in the same studio space, having moved from Dayton Ave to Lewis St in 2007.

Still, the board is the board. That hasn't changed a whole lot, though there are some funky things I had to deal with. Otherwise, when I ran the controls for "Your Greenwich House" yesterday, it was pretty much like doing "Doubleheader.

Both of those shows are low maintenance. Turn on the mics and talk. Maybe play something off a computer. Pretty basic stuff.

Tonight, following "Doubleheader" I ran "Greenwich Matters" with Sam Romeo.

Now, I think the world of Sam, so this has nothing to do with him.

But, otherwise, ugh. This is where you have to be calm in radio. The chaos can eat you up.

You see, Sam doesn't come to the studio to do the show. That's exactly how I do "Doubleheader" normally. I do it remotely almost every day. The difference is Bob Small turns my mic on and walks away so he can work. Oh sure, he's in the building if something is wrong with my show but, otherwise, he's doing his thing. That's the exact reason we don't take phone calls normally unless callers get me on my cell or Google Voice number.

So tonight I had to connect with Sam via computer. I also needed a way to talk back to Sam.

Enter Sean Kilkelly, whom I texted for advice.

You see, I'm normally on the other side -- either for talk shows or games. I'm at home or in the field.

I wasn't going to bother Bob in this case but Sean knew how to help. He steered me in the right direction to establish the talk-back connection.

Sam's show is current events driven and dabbles in politics. Well, it's a political show I suppose. 

Of course, Election Day is next Tuesday and the candidates wanted to get their voices heard with Sam.

They started calling -- along with listener calls -- almost immediately.

So I grabbed a few calls and lined them up. 

Then I put one on the air.

And Sam couldn't hear them.

This, of course, happened live. Before he went out of the office, Bob had caught me up on things so that I was ready but we failed to go over these wrinkles. It happens.

Sam and I tried to work around it and, to be sure, I began to feel the sweat building on my brow.

I asked Sean. He knew. It was a button that hadn't been pressed. A wrinkle I wasn't aware of.

Bang. We were fixed.

From there, being a board operator can be mundane but it can also mean juggling some things. That's what I did.

We got through the balance of the show without issues.

After Sam and I said goodnight off the air. I realized that I needed this night. One thing I really liked in the past was being involved with everything when I first started at WGCH. If Bob needed someone to engineer an event, I told him to train me and I'd take it from there.

I took on basically anything and was happy to observe where needed.

There's a reason I wound up on the St. Patrick's Day Parade and the Greenwich Town Party and so many other things.

So to be back in the studio, and figuring out the inner workings of Sam's show was a really positive thing. Then, if someone else needs help, I can be available to assist.

Making it work -- using resources as needed -- is what it's all about.

This is NOT w World Series Post

 

1992 Toronto Blue Jays

It's a quiet Wednesday night and I'm watching the World Series.

Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to dazzle you with the legend of Pat Borders and the 1992 Fall Classic.

OK, Borders went nine for 20 (.450) as the Blue Jays took the first international World Series, besting the Braves in six. He was also named World Series MVP.

I'd love to tell you about the meeting I had after "Doubleheader" tonight but, no, not yet.

Something is afoot, though there is no money to be had. I suppose there's some prestige but, to be fair, I don't know that prestige even matters. It's not what the gig is about.

Anyway, we'll discuss more as things become a little more official.

It's nice to be asked to do things. Besides the Boomslang Basketball game that I recently did, a few others have kicked the Robcasting tires.

I'll try to do as much of it as I can.

It was that kind of day. It was a day of meetings, moving and shaking, and a toilet seat.

Oh. Yes, that too. 

The seat snapped and instead of troubling anyone, I bought one myself. I picked it out, grabbed some groceries at a nearby store, and came back home.

Ah but if only it was that easy.

You see, the day started with me at WGCH as I board opped "Your Greenwich Home." That show -- Jonathan and Gideon are the hosts -- is very "Doubleheader" esque in that they basically work without a net.

With Bob Small away for a few days, I'm needed to keep an eye on our favorite Greenwich radio hangout.

Being there for their show allowed Gideon, Jonathan, and me an opportunity to talk radio and business before they both moved on with their day.

Then I bought the toilet seat, figuring I could go back home, do the work, make some lunch, and prepare for "Doubleheader."

So, I came into the apartment, worked on removing the damaged seat, and immediately discovered the one I bought was the wrong size.

Well. Blast.

So I took the toilet seat back, got a refund, and bought the correct one. Shockingly, I had enough time to put gas in the car and buzz back to the apartment. Even then, I still had enough time to install the new toilet seat, pet the cat, and go back to WGCH for the show.

I impressed myself.

The second meeting was after that. Then I had a four-minute commute home.

So now, back to our World Series history lesson. Let's resume with Brian Doyle in 1978 with the Yankees. Subbing for an injured Willie Randolph, he hit .438 in the Bombers' six-game victory over the Dodgers...

They Never Had a Chance

 

(Photo: Getty Images)

It's going pretty well in Philadelphia for the Phillies as I start writing tonight. They've hit five home runs and are rolling.

That makes for a (possibly) more dramatic World Series, as opposed to the Astros rout that I feared.

The World Series also gives me a taste of nostalgia.

The first World Series I remember watching was in 1975 but I don't doubt that I caught glimpses of the ones before that. I'm fairly certain the 1973 affair between the A's and Mets was on the TV in our living room.

But '75 was a crazy seven-game series for the Red Sox and Reds. Cincinnati was trying to win their first title since 1940 while Boston was looking for that elusive first championship since 1918.

You probably know that it took Bernie Carbo to tie the classic Game 6 with a home run before Carlton Fisk waved his 12th inning blast down the left field line fair. The Red Sox won to force a seventh game. That was also a classic as the Reds scored one in the ninth and held on to win.

Carlton Fisk waves the ball fair in 1975

The next year gave the World Series a whole new feeling for me.

The Yankees were in it.

The Bombers won a nasty five-game ALCS over Kansas City on the Chris Chambliss walk-off before arriving in Cincinnati for Game 1 two days later.

Bedlam happened seconds later and the Yankees went to Cincinnati

There's a pretty famous story about the Pittsburgh Pirates watching the Yankees take batting practice before Game 1 of the 1927 World Series. The story -- legend or otherwise -- says that the Buccos watched Ruth, Gehrig, and the rest of "Murderer's Row" take their hacks and realized the series was over.

Oh, and it was. The Yankees swept the Pirates.

Well, the 1976 Yankees weren't like the Pirates but, looking back, it feels like the World Series was over as Chambliss was fighting his way around the bases in New York.

This was "The Big Red Machine" with a lineup of Pete Rose, Ken Griffey (Sr.), Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Dan Driessen, George Foster, Johnny Bench, Cesar Geronimo, and Dave Concepcion. Don Gullet was their starting pitcher.

Don't get me wrong, the Yankees had talent with Chambliss and Graig Nettles and Mickey Rivers and Roy White and Willie Randolph, and, of course, Thurman Munson.

Yet, just comprising the lineups, the Reds have three Hall of Famers (plus Pete Rose) while the Yankees have none.

That doesn't indicate how the series will turn out but it doesn't help. Plus this was the fourth World Series for the Reds of the 70s (1970, 1972, along with '75 and '76) while the Yankees hadn't been to the Fall Classic since 1964 when they lost to the Cardinals. Mickey Mantle was on that team.

Mickey Mantle wasn't on this team.

The '76 Reds were one of the great teams of all-time and it was simply their year. I can tell you that as a grown man.

As a not-quite eight-year-old in New York, well, that was a different story.

It was a sweep. The Reds outscored the Yankees 22-8.

And while I don't see red when I think of them anymore, I do still remember just how much I detested the Reds for a few years after that.

I recall a cousin of mine had a handwritten poster denouncing the Reds in his room.

I knew that feeling.

Oh, I didn't like Johnny Bench or anyone else associated with the Cincinnati Reds either. But Bench especially earned my ire because 1) the Yankees had Thurman Munson and 2) there was the perceived insult from Reds' manager Sparky Anderson towards Munson.

Thurman loved feeding off being dissed, as Anderson said nobody compared to Bench -- even Thurman. So Thurman, despite getting destroyed in the series, hit .529. There's a famous piece of recorded audio of Anderson on the mound at Yankee Stadium singing Thurman's praises.

That was "our" guy. Nobody messed with Thurman.

I've long gotten over it. Then again, Reggie Jackson and three swings the following fall made the sting of the '76 blowout a little easier. Winning tends to do that.

But, with that 1976 World Series, I truly began to understand the majesty of the Fall Classic. It wasn't long after that I commenced studying the history of the sport.

See, that's the thing. Yankees fans get mocked for our dropping of "27 rings" as our badge of honor. But can you actively discuss all 27 rings? 

I can. 

With those formative years of watching the Series, plus going to the Hall of Fame, and acquiring the books that I'd inhale, I moved towards a better understanding.

Thus I could spend time on the 1914 Classic (Braves/Athletics) on "Doubleheader" today before I quickly reminded myself that I was putting my audience to sleep.

Well, maybe not, but probably not far off.

Game 3 continues in Philly as I wrap up.

It's my 47th* World Series and I love it.

*Yes, 47th, because of the selfishness of 1994.

Second Base

 

I moved from Mahopac to Greenwich over five months ago.

Still, I've been back every couple of weeks since, driving by to check on the mail. For the most part, the mail has stopped coming. 

Of course, I'm also driving by to see how things are coming along at the old house. While there is still a flood of memories, I'm also just curious.

A few weeks back, I was faced with the stunning reality that the paint had been changed from yellow to this grey and that a couple of windows -- one in my bedroom as a kid and one in my parent's bedroom -- had been sealed.

As I've said all along, it's the new owners' property now and it's their business.

But, well, today, I discovered a couple of trees had been torn down.

One was in the backyard, at the corner of the house. Honestly, I wanted to take that one down some time ago as it was clearly threatening to be a problem. It hung right over the back corner of the house and its needles could often be found in the gutter.

The other, well, everyone knew it as second base.

It was a tall evergreen that sat to the left of the house when looking from the road. 

It was a tree that my mother always wanted in the yard, even when I'd grumble about it being a bear to clean around when mowing the lawn. Eventually, my cousin Kris helped prune it so that I could run the lawnmower under it.

For what it's worth, my mom always hoped it would be taken by Rockefeller Center for their Christmas tree. Small note: my cousin in Westchester County did have their tree taken to New York several years back.

But our tree was also the centerpiece of the mini Yankee Stadium in the Adams yard.

How could I possibly be expected to grow up in a yard without a baseball field? Or a football field?

No, I'm not really that entitled. I was blessed to have a yard (and neighborhood) that was adaptable to sports like that.

The side of our house was prime for Wiffle ball games and any other type of ball/diamond game I could muster. The front yard of the house served as the outfield and, thanks to its rectangular shape, served as a good football field.

In the days before batting cages, I'd stand in the sideyard with a bucket of balls and self-hit. It was great hand-eye coordination.

Wiffle? Baseball? Tennis balls? Rubber balls? Yes to all.

The tree in the middle was second base. Yeah, it wasn't a perfect field but ask any kid who played on it and see if it bothered them.

Oh, I'll tell you what bothered them: hitting a ball up the middle -- on the ground or a liner -- and the ball getting stuck in the tree. Believe me when I say I crawled into and under that prickly thing too many times for an accurate count.

But the tree peak -- that glorious piece standing atop that would be perfect for an angel to rest upon it -- was sacred. Why? Because the house rule was that if a ball went over the peak of the tree it was a home run.

Hey, we needed quirks. Yankee Stadium had Death Valley. My Yankee Stadium had a tree and the front corner of the house.

Don't get me wrong, as I said, I lamented many Saturdays about mowing around second base. I wished it was gone so often. I wanted a field without it as an obstacle.

But, on the other hand, it wouldn't have been the same.

So, today, when I drove by to see it sitting there chopped into pieces, a small part of my youth felt like I had struck out.

I texted some of the people who I knew would appreciate the picture that I took. The general reaction was "wow."

With the tree gone so goes its secrets of eating the baseballs, plastic balls, rubber balls, football, golf balls, and whatever else it gobbled.

With the tree gone, I'm reminded of parties and picnics. Memorial Day, July 4th, Labor Day. Heck, if there wasn't snow on the ground on Thanksgiving I'd still be out there hitting. We were also out there for graduations and whatever other excuse we could fine.

I'm reminded of Kris and Kourtney and Keli. I'm reminded of the Wiffle ball games that even Mom played in -- something that astounds her younger grandchildren. 

I'm reminded of my nieces and nephews and friends and neighbors. 

I'm reminded of many - seriously, so many -- games that I stood out there and conducted on my own, practicing play-by-play out loud.

"That's where you started," a neighbor mentioned to me at my mother's funeral, which was both extremely sweet and quite embarrassing because I hoped nobody had ever heard me.

So goes another passage of life. We move on.

It's not ours to control though we can certainly pause to mourn.

I continue to be wowed by the changes and fascinated by what is coming next.

But this one stung.

Basketball Goes Boom!

 

There are those in the broadcasting business who think that certain things are beneath them.

I remember a lengthy discussion once taking place on the interweb about covering sub-varsity sports, for instance. But I've proudly called any level and, basically, any sport.

So when I was asked if I'd like to do fourth-grade girls basketball for Boomslang Basketball Club, based here in Greenwich, I thought it sounded like fun.

Look, my "have headset, will travel" mantra has always served me well in the willingness to broadcast, basically, anything and anywhere. 

The limits I have include anything that won't sound good or will somehow be embarrassing (either for me or the athletes). Otherwise, chances are, I'll give it a try.

The basic issue is too many in "the biz" are inflexible as they sit in their tower. They'd cringe at what I did today.

Not me. I didn't flinch.

When covering something like this, the details of what time the game will take place and where can be a bit late arriving. I confirmed late in the week that there would be a game today and it would take place in Hartsdale, NY.

The location was an added bonus, for Westchester County will always hold a special place in my heart. I worked in White Plains for years and could often be found around that part of the county.

Hartsdale, just south of White Plains, was also where my paternal grandparents lived and where my father was both in 1929. Their house -- on Central Park Ave (NY route 100) -- is still there, having been converted into a dental office many years ago.

That just added to my motivation to get up and go to the Leffell School in Hartsdale at 9:30 this morning.

Sure, after entirely investing in two football broadcasts this weekend, it was pretty enticing to take it easy and watch football on TV. But I fed Rascal and summoned the energy to walk out the door after being appropriately caffeinated.

I made the commitment. People were now counting on me. I'd be there.

I made my way into Hartsdale, passing my grandparent's house as well as the old-style IHOP that we used to eat at as a family, and was soon at the gym.

I guess I failed to recognize that the game was at 10, so time was a little tight, but I was set up in the corner of the bleachers in no time. Ryan Maloney -- my Boomslang contact -- assisted me with a roster that was loaded with only first names. I questioned that but got the expected answer: just in case parents didn't want their kids' full names on the air.

Oh, this would be different and it's possible that it will change in the future but I saw no reason to push the topic. This was, overall, a test broadcast to see if everything worked.

I lightly promoted the effort on Twitter and did get a few listeners on the Robcasting feed.

So with just first names, I got to work. A win for Boomslang (which, by the way, is a highly poisonous snake...blech...) would mean they'd play in a championship game later in the day in Yorktown. I was invited to call that one also.

From there, it was basketball. The game took a mere 45 minutes, with Boomslang falling to Born Leaders 9-2.

The broadcast became standard operating procedure for me. It seems Boomslang is happy as they posted the archived audio on their site.

Many years ago, WGCH had me broadcast the football championships in the GYFL here in Greenwich. I questioned the idea. Then we did it, had a blast, and learned that broadcasting anything was possible.

The other thing is if I didn't broadcast it, someone else would.

It's simply a matter of being armed with the right information. I had enough to make this morning work.

Let's face it. If I have a roster -- even one with first names only -- it just becomes the game from there. Just describe it.

Sure, I don't love being the subject of curiosity as many people in the gym took note of the strange "old" man sitting in the corner of the bleachers but, obviously, there were people to vouch for me.

With the Boomslang loss, there would be no trip to Yorktown (up near Mahopac, if you don't know). Instead, I went back past my grandparents' house and pulled into the driveway.

It's probably the first time I stopped there since I was a little kid. I snapped a picture from the driveway.

The house is on the left. The other structures were added later

Then I moved toward Greenwich and connected with my sister. Sean and I joined her for a nice late lunch in Darien.

Now, finally, I'm watching football and some hockey as well.

The best news about all of this is that it kept me from sleeping all day because each time I sat down in my chair at home I passed out.

My hope is I'll sleep well tonight.

I'm sure the cat will have something to say about that.

Memories of Sandy

 

Greenwich, CT, post-superstorm. Oct 30, 2012

A hurricane hit the area ten years ago tonight. That hurricane evolved into a superstorm. To be honest, I'd never heard that term before then and haven't heard it after that night.

I remember that it was a Monday and that I had a talk show to do that night. So, keeping the commitment, I decided I would go in.

But, I also figured it was possible I could be a help to WGCH. I called Tony Savino and he said to come on down.

I was there before 3 p.m., armed with a sleeping bag and an air mattress.

Not long after I got there, Tony told me that a radio station from Vancouver, Canada had called and asked for a guest to go on to talk about preparing for the storm. I was that guest.

I appeared on the Simi Sara on CKNW radio. I was asked if I would be interested in appearing again the next day after the storm had passed.

The next hiccup was when our own Mary Anne DeFelice -- host of "The Mary Anne Show" -- wasn't comfortable with coming in. So, would I do it?

I went on the air at 3 p.m. for the first time and hosted the show. My goal was to inform listeners about the status of the storm while remaining topical and relaxed. After all, I jumped in literally with no preparation.

So began my long night of radio. WGCH Assistant News Director Jim Campbell eventually joined me for the evening. At that point, we were two journalists who talked news and the storm. We took phone calls and monitored the local power utilities for their outages map.

Eventually, all power would go out.

My talk show colleagues -- Chris Erway, Ryan DeMaria, and Chris Kaelin -- all told me they weren't going to the station but each one chimed in via phone. The conversation remained professional but at times we also tried to keep things light and entertaining.

This was a fairly important gig. My car sat outside the building and I remembered wondering if it would get damaged (it didn't). 

Jim and I also stayed in touch with Tony all night, who was anchored at the Public Safety Complex several blocks down Mason Street. Tony elected to walk there and, while I've done that walk, I can't imagine it was fun in a hurricane/superstorm.

I felt this was one of the more important community service things on radio I'd ever been a part of and I remain proud of the whole thing. 

What didn't thrill me was that, as we were slogging through our eighth hour on the air, and heading towards 11 p.m, everything went black.

Tony had fought through the rain and wind to get back to the station and we were just beginning to discuss how much longer we should stay on the air when the power went out. I'll always remember the traffic light at the corner of Lewis and Mason Streets remaining on via battery backup for some time after everything else went dark.

With that, we were off the air and our coverage was also. Also with that, any hope of archival audio was gone.

We gathered in the office after that for a few minutes, beginning to assess what had just happened. for some reason, and I never did know why, a Greenwich police officer came in the door.

Jim and Bob Small -- who'd also been around the building most of the night -- both lived in Greenwich.  With that, Jim looked towards the cop with a flashlight on to light anything we could and began to speak.

"Officer," Jim said, "I live in..." 

"You're not going anywhere," the officer replied.

I knew I wouldn't be back in Mahopac that night. By definition, the roads were closed due to a state of emergency. I felt no reason to test that in the dark. To that end, I checked on Mom to make sure she was OK. Except for some down branches and no power, she was fine.

Incidentally, Bob was able to get home. But by 11 p.m. Tony, Jim, and I faced the reality that were sleeping at the station that night.

Eventually, each one of us headed to a different room to sleep. If I recall correctly, Tony took an office, Jim took the main air studio, and I headed into the office that I had at the time.

I hadn't inflated the air mattress because I felt sort of guilty that I had brought it but the others didn't have such an extravagance. I loaded batteries into the air pump for the air mattress, turned it on, and ... 

Of course, the batteries were dead and the pump didn't work.

I heaved a sigh, unrolled my sleeping bag, and hunkered down on the floor. The light of the dying traffic signal keep a green, red, and occasional amber hue coming through the window.

As I'm sure you won't be surprised, I didn't sleep much as Monday, Oct 29 faded into Tuesday, Oct 30, 2012.

I got up and, ultimately, decided that there wasn't much more I could do at WGCH that morning. We couldn't get on the air but the question now was if I could drive home.

There was only one way to find out.

Before leaving town, I drove around to see a little bit of the damage. I saw downed trees and very little life due to no power.

Otherwise, it was pretty unspectacular.

I got on I-95 and began to head home. Despite the continued state of emergency, traffic moved swiftly. I went back to Mahopac without incident.

Eventually, Simi Sara's producer would call and, with some battery still on my phone, I spoke with the CKNW host while pacing in my yard as I picked up branches resting on the ground.

Power eventually came back on later that night and life moved along.

I was lucky in that the damage in my life was minimal. So many others -- especially those along the shoreline -- suffered incredible damage and loss. In New York State alone, the reported numbers were 53 fatalities and $32 billion in damages in 2012 dollars.

Staten Island, lower Manhattan, parts of Brooklyn and Queens were especially hard hit.

The Fairfield County coastline of Connecticut also got walloped. I specifically recall a bad fire in the Old Greenwich part of town while we were on the air. I recall the town of Fairfield got hit hard also.

It was spectacular but not in a good way.

But, as a broadcaster and a journalist, it's an experience that I have relived many times since, especially to broadcasting students. I use the superstorm as an example of covering breaking news and being prepared for anything. 

I also use it as an example of how nuts you need to be in broadcasting. Sleeping on the floor of a radio station wasn't ideal but things could have been much worse.

I find -- 10 years later -- myself wondering about that first weather experience now that I live here in Greenwich and how I would have handled that night. We live slightly close to the shore of Long Island Sound now.

Unforgettable.

I'm content to not go through it again.

*****

Greenwich beat Darien today in football. The significance of that can't be minimized for the Cardinals.

I hadn't been back to Darien High School in a few years. I was once there covering games on what felt like a weekly basis.

There are memories. 

I've written enough for tonight but that's where I'll leave it: memories.

My Senior Discount

 

The press box at Cheshire Academy was too small so we roughed it

It's Friday in Connecticut.

If you need to go anywhere, well, you know the drill. 

Traffic is terrible.

So, in my case, I had to get to Cheshire for the call of Brunswick at Cheshire Academy. Chris Erway and I had a 6 p.m. kickoff. After checking the maps, we decided to ride together, leaving his stately manor at 2:30 p.m.

I was hoping to be there around 4:00.

The idea is to be at the game site at least 90 minutes early to set up and hopefully visit the field, among myriad other pregame things.

Shockingly, we rolled into Cheshire earlier than expected. I thought a coffee and a bottle of water would be a good thing so Chris and I went to a Dunkin Donuts (which should always be the name in my opinion).

I stepped to the restroom while he ordered. As I emerged, Chris asked if I wanted anything to eat. At first, I didn't.

Then Chris ordered a pumpkin donut.

Dammit. I caved.

Tiffani -- the nice staff member serving us -- was charmed at the notion of Chris convincing me to get a donut also.

Seconds later, my injury (grabbing an unnecessary donut) was further insulted.

She gave us a senior discount, announcing that I saved us something like 56 cents.

I was happy to save the money since Chris was buying but hold on now.

Do I look like I should get a senior discount?

I'm certainly aware some salt has mixed with the pepper (which I'm always told is "distinguished") and yes there are some signs of aging but I thought I still looked reasonably young at heart.

By the end of the night, I essentially had one foot in the proverbial grave.

Chris, who has called me old for years (and I do have probably 17 years on him), was now absolutely in his glory.

He was overjoyed, to be clear.

Here I am, not deserving of a senior discount from Dunkin Donuts, not an AARP member, and under 55 years old, now receiving such status.

Sean -- my lovely child, who has long mocked my age -- was also delighted.

So I put the two of them in touch via text so they could enjoy the moment at my expense. I figured I might as well have fun with it.

We also prepared to discuss it during the Brunswick/Cheshire Academy broadcast. The game didn't allow to note it for long though I did drop it in later in the night. I believe the topic of my mortality was briefly touched on.

So, yeah, sense of humor and all.

It was a night in which there were problems with the video feed. I can't quite make this clear enough that Chris and I don't control such things. I can only control things in "the booth" and, even then, a lot of it is out of my hands once we're on the air.

In this case, we definitely had no control. We did, however, have an audio feed available (you know, as in Robcasting).

Despite my advanced age, I remembered to put the broadcast on the Internet.

Oh, and the game was pretty good, with Brunswick winning by three.

Plus family stopped by, though briefly. So great to see Michael, Ashley, Isabella, and Gabby.

Chris and I grabbed dinner after the game and laughed basically all the way home.

We're on to Darien tomorrow for Greenwich and the Blue Wave. Listen to us on WGCH and Robcasting.

I will have my walker with me.

Oh Yoko!

 

Arguably the greatest album in music history -- "Revolver" by The Beatles -- is getting a deluxe re-release tomorrow.

CDs, digital, and vinyl will be available in various "deluxe" editions. For the record (ha! I kill me!) I haven't purchased any of them.

To be sure, "Revolver" -- the first of the Fab discs I bought when the albums were released on CD -- is a significant work to me. Coming off the brilliance of "Rubber Soul," I feel like "Revolver" upped the game even more, preparing them for "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band."

And I could write about it all night, from the opening count-in of "Taxman" to the master studio work of "Tomorrow Never Knows."

Yet, I found myself thinking about Yoko Ono.

Ah yes. Yoko. The often-loathed better half of John Lennon. Loathed, essentially, because John fell head over heels for her, had her in the studio constantly, and left his first wife Cynthia (and son Julian) to be with her.

Along the way, she became responsible in the minds of many for breaking The Beatles up and spawning myriad memes and jokes.

I am absolutely guilty of calling a theoretically overbearing partner "Yoko Ono."

The funny thing was while talking about this, I heard words that aren't often uttered: "Poor Yoko."

But, with the recent "Get Back" documentary, we saw that Yoko was there but wasn't the annoying presence that she had been made out to be during the making of the titular album (later renamed "Let It Be").

So I think Yoko is being seen at least slightly through a different lens. No question Beatles fans have been long-been conflicted over Yoko. Did she break up The Beatles? No. Did she help things? Nah, probably not.

But it was John who adored Yoko. It was also John who wanted out of the band.

Oh yeah, Paul was accused of being the first to leave when he released his "McCartney" album in 1970.

Of course, on the other end of the spectrum is Linda McCartney, who was 60s chic, a fine photographer, and, well, less dangerous. By comparison to Yoko, Linda received little fan grief though one could have also suspected she helped break the lads up.

In the end, it really came down to the four Beatles, who had been on a rocket ship "to the toppermost of the poppermost!" They were the only ones who truly knew what the mania was like. 

Yoko was omnipresent, mostly due to her husband. 

And she became the running gag well past when she was 64.

Given that she's 89 now.

Big City. Big Topics

 

(Photo: LinkedIn)

Another lanyard.

When you're involved with conferences -- attending, presenting, or moderating -- you get lanyards. Lots of them.

I've got a bunch now and I added one more to the collection today.

It was the final conference for Hunt Scanlon in 2022 at the Harvard Club in Manhattan.

From New York to London to San Francisco and back to New York, we all logged a lot of miles via air, rail, car, and by foot.

The main conspirators in this buddy film are Chris, Scott, Mike, Erik, and Walker.

And me.

There are other supporting players but you get the idea.

Today's topic was diversity, equity, and inclusion -- also known as DE&I. It's safe to say those three words are more than just a catchphrase. It's a topic that had been a train on the tracks before 2020. Then it picked up speed.

The presentations -- individuals, duos, and panels -- were each powerful and prescient. Most who read this little enclave of the interwebs know that this should be common sense but, then again, we know the drill.

Common sense isn't always common.

What I really appreciated about the day was that it truly was a day of inclusion. While I wasn't a presenter, my voice was as welcome as any voice in the room. Everyone could be heard and many were.

Oh, don't get me wrong, my voice matters in that I'm steering the bus through the day. I've said before what it's like for me. It's a day that is exhausting mentally because I'm constantly watching time while multitasking with messages and texts flying around. It's also a bit of walking (to and from train stations in New York and Greenwich) and a lot of shuffling around.

It was also exhausting in that I was on almost no sleep and was up at 4 a.m. to be at the train station by 5 a.m. My back is sore and my feet hurt and, for what it's worth, that's good. I was happy to be active even if I'm in a little pain.

But, like climbing St. Paul's Cathedral or anything else in life, I'm proud when it's wrapped up. Sure, I get to play "the voice" or even "the face" to an extent and I'm grateful for the kind feedback but it's being a part of this team that I enjoy so much.

And guiding along a day with such important conversations. Again, diversity? Equity? Inclusion? Yes, yes, and yes. It's a humbling and rewarding day.

Oh, sure, I heard nice things about that voice of mine. No, I still don't get it. I think my voice is fine but I don't really think it's anything special. Still, a couple of attendees made sure to point out how much they liked it. One even said so to the entire audience of well over 200 people. I turned red, smiled, and sat down.

There's a nice payoff in gathering for the post-conference reception and chatting with attendees who gushed about the content. It's also at that point that guards come down and there's business talk combined with other topics. Relationships are fostered in those moments.

Now comes the winter break from conferences, with the next one lined up for March in New York City again. London and San Francisco are both on the docket for 2023 as we appear to be just as busy next year.

I'll be ready and we'll just keep getting better at it as I get even more comfortable.

There will be more lanyards to acquire.

Oh F***

 

I'm often picked on for my age.

Occasionally mocked for older values for sure.

And, to be honest, one of those values -- at least in media -- is about language.

No, not in person. Sure, I can "(work) in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay." That's a quote from the movie "A Christmas Story."

But, yet, I struggle to do so here on the bibbidy bobbidy blog.

I think it's a hangup from working in the media. Obviously, profanity is quite frowned upon in broadcasting that is monitored by the FCC.

Thus a few of George Carlin's "seven dirty words" are "verboten" on the air.

And, as such, I've not used there here either.

Oh, I've even gone so far as to write them in the first draft. Then I delete them when it's time to publish the post.

Now, this doesn't mean you should flip out when and if I do write something here that's a bit blue (or if I have and have forgotten). There's no law against it. It's just how I prefer to conduct things.

Even on social media, I've worked mostly without it, even trying to not share things with "foul" language. Again, this is a guideline for me but it's not a definitive rule.

And, to be quite sure, I don't judge those who do swear in their work. Obviously, my eyes would open if it happened in broadcast media. Again, we're talking the major TV networks and all terrestrial radio stations. We're not talking about cable TV or Sirius XM.

We're also not talking internet streaming audio or video and, yet, I've always tried to avoid such language on those outlets as well. I've simply chosen to follow the FCC rules in those cases.

Still, I listened to a sports podcast earlier tonight where the host did use a few words that wouldn't pass the FCC censors and I found myself wondering, "why?"

And, of course, there's no right answer. If I hold anything against this podcast host it's because his work is ridiculous. 

This is probably one of those silly old hangups and, again, mostly nothing I'm going to get upset about, but when you come out of those uptempo g*dd@mn numbers, man...

Oh, sorry, I started to quote Casey Kasem's famous "f***ing ponderous" meltdown. 

Anyway, this "is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing." (Shakespeare, "Macbeth," Act 5, Scene 5)

So **** off and have a good night.

Hold Your Head High

 

The ball had barely reached Yuli Gurriel's glove before the mockup of Aaron Judge in a Mets uniform was on Twitter. I saw one later on him wearing a Red Sox jersey and hat.

Astros 6, Yankees 5. Season over in New York. The Astros and Phillies will meet in the World Series beginning on Friday.

The better team won and I congratulate the Astros on a four-game sweep.

My heart hurts right now but I expected it. I said the Yankees were a decided underdog before the series.

I've written about this feeling before. I said a while back that Mets fans need to be proud, give credit to the other team (in their case, the Padres), and move on.

I'm here to do just that.

Oh, it will sting and I'll feel anger, etc. I'll likely rave a bit on "Doubleheader."

But that's sports, friends. It teaches you that, generally, you're going to deal with hurt, deflation, depression, and, in some moments, euphoria.

If it grabs you, then you embrace it and hold on, even in the bad moments when you want to jump off.

For all of the remarkable moments I've written about, there are moments of heartbreak.

Or, tonight, basically, disgust. I had limited hope but the Yankees showed a few promising signs in three of the four games.

On the other hand, there was the abysmal, heartless performance in Game 3. For many, that's when it felt like it was over.

For me, it just felt deflating. The odds were clearly stacked against the Yankees but all I could do was lean into one game at a time.

And it was not to be. The Yankees' season --  a fun, wild ride -- was over around 12:10 a.m.

The drought -- such as it is in Yankees Universe -- extends into 2023 at 14 years since a title. Nobody is going to feel sorry for us.

There's always that question of "Will I watch the World Series?" and the answer is, "of course, I will." I've watched them all since 1975 and it won't change. 

I love baseball and I love the history of the World Series so of course, I'll pay attention.

I'll likely be rooting for the Phillies since Sean and I were there in August for a game. But if Dusty Baker finally wins a World Series as a manager then I can live with that.

Yeah, I know, "cheating Astros," etc but that's an often exhausting way to go through life. While it won't be forgotten, it's simply best to move on. I hate losing to the Astros because they're a rival now and because I hate losing.

But I'm from the Derek Jeter camp of a season is a failure unless there's a championship. No American League East Division title will satisfy that craving.

It's championship or bust.

It was bust in 2022.

Oh, and I think Judge will be back with the Yankees. I've said it all along and I'm standing by it. There will obviously be other necessary changes in the offseason.

Which begins now.

Thanks, Jodie

It was never her fault.

She was "brilliant" (her first spoken word).

She is Jodie Whittaker, who embodied The Doctor, the titular character of "Doctor Who" from mid-2017, when she was first announced as the 13th Doctor, until tonight.

Her final episode is airing as I'm writing.

The character had been a collection of white men from its first airing in Nov 1963 and the announcement of Whittaker was met with a lot of misgiving.

The misgiving needed to be for showrunner Chris Chibnall, who seemed to take so much of what made the "modern" Doctor Who (beginning in 2005) great and blow it up. Change, of course, can be good, but it can also be dangerous when dealing with a beloved show with a rabid fan base.

Whittaker and her companions were very much not the problems.

The writing was.

But Sean, my expert on all Whovian matters, was not thrilled about Whittaker at first. It had nothing to do with Jodie but everything to do with the way the character had been constructed. I actually wrote about it on social media -- yes, I learned my lesson -- and it led to a lengthy back and forth with friends and with a couple of women taking my side.

I think Sean was also concerned about embracing a new Doctor, following the previous incarnations, all of whom he liked a lot.

Still, in the end, TV show rules are allowed to evolve. It's a TV show after all.

Sean and I watched the first episode with the 13th Doctor, "The Woman Who Fell to Earth," and were impressed.

Soon after, the quality dropped, and Sean lost interest. I continued to watch but, admittedly, with no Sean, I also failed to stay up on the episodes.

But regeneration is a big deal so I'm back in tonight.

If you've never watched one, the regeneration -- in which the show can carry on with a new actor in the role -- can be a deeply emotional thing. Virtually all of the regenerations since 2005 have been a remarkable ride. Personally, I found the departures of David Tennant, Matt Smith, and Peter Capaldi to be particularly gut-wrenching. I'm fairly certain I've quoted each of them at one time or another here.

Now, for the record, I've already seen the regeneration since the episode aired in the U.K. hours ago. The BBC posted it on their social media and, despite the "SPOILER ALERT" ("spoilers" is an important phrase to Whovians) I still watched it. 

Yeah, I was pretty blown away by what I saw. It was a fine way for Jodie to depart. Social media told me enough to know what happened after. I got Sean to watch that and he just kept saying, "What?" over and over again.

What, indeed.

I'm watching the full episode now to understand how we got to the regeneration.

More than anything, I want to thank Jodie Whittaker -- no, I have no thought that she'll actually read this -- for carrying on the character in such a wonderful way. She brought the humor, charm, and edge to The Doctor that fans have loved for almost 60 years.

And, if Sean were writing, he'd say the same. We both came to love Whittaker and I'll admit I'd be interested in anything she acts in. While I really appreciate her work as "The Doctor," I thought she was incredible in "Broadchurch," a crime program that included many pieces of the "Whoniverse." Whittaker and David Tennant were just two parts, along with Chibnall, who created the program.

Of course, this is a fun process, given the Yankees are trying to stay alive (2-0, bottom of the first as I write in Game 4) and the Steelers are playing the Dolphins (that's not going so well). So multiple devices are bringing me this buffet of riches.

While this era of "Doctor Who" will be seen through a difficult prism, I'm still hopeful that Sean will return to it as it became another thing that bonded father and son. 

While nothing lasts forever, there are always older episodes to keep us talking.

As for what's next, well, all I can say is "allons-y" which is French for "Let's Go."

A Whovian knows what that means.

Our Next Album Release

 

A captivating fall sky at Brunswick as we waited

You might be aware that an artist released an album the other night at midnight.

Many in the pop music world were simply agog (and, perhaps, gaga).

Blog friend Snakey Lucy had her mother's credit card ready to fire away at midnight for "Midnights." 

Then another edition dropped at 3 a.m. with seven extra songs. I weep for those who try to collect all of it.

Taylor Swift is remarkable in myriad ways and, while I have my criticisms, one can't deny her talent or her ability to keep her fans satisfied.

It's a little Beatle-esque, I suppose. And, oh yeah, those guys dropped two new tracks from the expanded "Revolver," their 1966 masterpiece (I know, most of the Beatles' works are masterpieces). But "Revolver" is next-level brilliant.

Anyway, they released an early edition of "Yellow Submarine" that is 1) sung by John Lennon, 2) is acoustic and dark and melodic, and 3) is nothing like Ringo's eventual child-like classic. They also released a version of "Got to Get You Into My Life" with no horns and a fuzzed-out guitar part. Pretty great stuff.

But, yes, Taylor. So her album cover, like the songs themselves, is being evaluated and analyzed. Some have created their own version of the cover.

That was all I needed.

I got to Brunswick three hours before kickoff today. OK, technically four hours, but three hours ahead of the scheduled start time. Their opposition got stuck in traffic.

The larger point is that I had some time on my hands. So I looked up an album generator and found one.

I decided, as Chris Erway and I were planning to call the Brunswick game, that we'd promote it using a mockup album cover based on Taylor Swift's "Midnights."

I found a picture of the two of us -- a selfie we took at Ridgefield a little over a month ago. Then I went about making up song titles. The result is this.

Now, you might wonder about the song titles. I made them all up but they each have something related to Chris and me. When Ms. Swift ("Tay Tay") was getting close to the album release, she did this daily (and charming) video where she would choose a track number, then pick up a telephone and tell us the name of each track. I don't have such dramatic showmanship. Nor do you care that much.

So, without Taylor's nightly "Midnights Mayhem with Me" or the telephone, let's dive in.

Track 1) "1-2-3 Dominate" This is something Chris always wanted us to say before every broadcast as if we were pounding each other on our shoulder pads to go run through a wall on our way to radio immortality. We still say it. Sometimes. But with less vigor than was probably desired.

Track 2) "Villains" We have a running joke in which we're the villains (aka, "Anti-Hero" for you Tay Tay fans) among the media. I don't think we are but we do keep it pretty real and aren't phony.

Track 3) "Filthy" In truth, there's a second word that goes with filthy but I kept it a family-friendly album. Chris has called me this and I've called him that and there's a chance we've called many others the same. It's generally pejorative but mostly humorous. I won't reveal the word because I don't want to give all of the secrets away.

Track 4) "Keep It" This is something that I recall Ryan Demaria saying a lot and we picked up on it. The term is a shorthand for an expression of disinterest. It's always another way of saying "stick it."

Track 5) "Ego" It's a nickname. Chris and I give each other a hard time about a lot of things. I sometimes call him "The Ego." He's the one who truly embraced "The A-Team" monicker, for instance. This is among the things I chide him about, including his moat and the creation of his own country and security.

Track 6) "Captain Greenwich" This, on the other hand, is a name Chris gave me, especially when he was still new to the broadcasts. He even sent me off to a Halloween party years ago, with a "Captain Greenwich" cape. It was a sign of respect at the time.

Track 7) "Tako Mumpsimus" I discovered the word "mumpsimus" in a word-of-the-day email I received several years back and immediately applied it to our friend Chris Kaelin. Kato -- I think the world of him -- but he's obstinate. It's part of his charm. "Tako" is an anagram of "Kato" and, as for "mumpsimus?" It's "a person who obstinately adheres to unreasonable customs or notions."

Track 8) "Playmakers" Ryan, Kato, Chris, and I did "The Press Box" for roughly four years on WGCH. We started calling ourselves "The Press Box Playmakers" and the term has stuck.

Track 9) "The Sports Insider" A former WGCH colleague had a show called "The Sports Insider." In honor of Ricky Fritsch, we've kept it alive. Ricky was also responsible for one day asking me if I remembered an intern named Chris Erway. So, yeah, blame Ricky.

Track 10) "First Stanza" I like that term since it's poetic and reminds me of Susan ("Skipping Rocks" is available on Amazon). Chris likes my tradition of using it in nearly every football broadcast and will actually chide me if I don't say it.

Track 11) "Get Off My Lawn" Occasionally Chris will say I'm an old man. OK, every time I see him he tells me I'm an old man. 

Track 12) "What Is It?" This is something that the great Steve Somers of WFAN would say and it always cracked us up. When Steve agreed to come on "The Press Box," the four of us sat in the production studio to do a special promo for that show. The outtakes, including Ryan riffing by saying "What is it?" in every way possible, had us crying and laughing.

Track 13) "The Whole Thing" Also a Steve Somers term, it was something we took as our own just because. 

I'm a big fan of such parody and this was a fun thing to do. It was quick and simple and Chris got a good laugh out of it. Superfan Snakey Lucy also seemed to give it her seal of approval.

Chris and I touched on it during the broadcast of Brunswick/Phillips Andover Academy.

Well played, Taylor.

And go buy your copy of Susan's "Skipping Rocks!"

(UPDATE! Here's our special edition 11 a.m. release!)

Dispatches From Beyond?

 

Is Michael Myers tweeting?

A sense of humor is always necessary.

If you're a reader of this little enterprise you know that one of my heroes -- Vin Scully, legendary sports broadcaster -- died back in August.

The sports world mourned his passing.

Towards the end of his life, Vin became active on social media, dabbling on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

In fact, it was his lack of any social media posts this summer that led me to think he wasn't well. He passed a few weeks later.

So it was kind of weird tonight when I got an alert that Vin had posted on Twitter.

Was it a miracle?!

A missive from a heavenly broadcast booth?

Was it a family member or someone in charge of his account who decided to post?

Er. I'm going to say no.

I blinked. Briefly, I was confused.

But then it disappeared; deleted by whatever cretin posted it.

Oh, but they weren't done. Within minutes a new post appeared.

To be very clear, I didn't click on any of the links. 

Both tweets were shared quite a bit with a lot of outrage.

I mean, hacking Vin Scully's account is pretty crass but given the tweets quickly disappeared, well, that was that.

What flashed in my mind was just how nuts my mind is.

For what it's worth, I still have posting access to my mother's social media accounts and, well, I'll leave that right there. But let's just say I wanted to post as her on Twitter.

And, further, I'm absolutely certain how she would have reacted to it.

She would have been amused but there would have been mock horror as she exclaimed my name. "Robert!" 

Always "Robert."

If you heard it, you never forgot it, so the impressions of it that still linger over Mahopac.

Ask Sean about the hand that would magically appear from the backseat of her car with a bag in it and one question proposed: "Garbage?"

Again, if you heard it, you never forgot.

So while I obviously mean no offense to Vin or his loved ones, that dark sense of humor was what rattled in me as I saw these dumb tweets tonight.

I'm glad they've been deleted, of course.

Oh, and Vin's Hidden Hills, CA house is for sale. His daughter is the listing agent on the seven-bedroom, nine-bathroom house priced at $15 million. Read more from the New York Post.

Pocket change for me, of course, to buy the property called "Home Plate." As it should be.

It sits just minutes off the 101 freeway, which I've been on. No, for the record, I did not try to find Vin's house.

I made it to the parking lot of Dodger Stadium -- his other house.

That was enough.

No zombies were around that day.

A Good Call

 

Greenwich beat Trumbull in football.

The game was good and the night was fun.

This was one of those nights where I knew people from both towns and when it came right down to it, I'm broadcasting for both places. Oh, I know Jeff Alterman and TEN (Trumbull Eagles Network) were there but they did their call and we did ours.

I feel a responsibility to do my best to cover both teams fairly. 

Some like -- even love. -- what Chris Erway and I do.

Some don't. Opinions are just that. They're opinions. 

It felt like we were on our game tonight.

If you don't know any better, you probably don't know that even with the best of broadcasts there are still flubs of some kind.

You probably don't know that I was struggling to get connected to WGCH via the internet before the broadcast but finally connected right around 6:51. In fact, I wasn't sure if we'd do any pregame at all or would we just go live right before kickoff at 7:00.

Seamlessly, we pulled it off.

Chris and I had a nice, easy flow to our banter tonight, mixed with a hint of comedy. From day one -- now over 20 years ago -- I said the goal of the local broadcasts was "community." We want you to feel like you're hanging out with us. 

That means you can also be a part of the evening, just as we did with the family of Cardinals long snapper Sean Cowie. By the end of the night, Sean's grandparents were emailing us to thank us for including them.

My friend Mike Buswell -- Trumbull guy -- also stopped by to visit us in the booth. He brought others with him and we called the game. His son was among our visitors and he stayed with us for most of the second half, eating a burger and French fries.

As the second half was getting ready to kick off, I noticed our connection to WGCH had dropped so, with no panic, we got that fixed. Again, listeners and viewers didn't know. 

This is all growth for me because there was a time when I might have panicked. Oh, who am I kidding? My stomach would have been in knots. But a sense of calm comes over me and that inner voice says that it will be OK.

And it is.

It's hard otherwise to explain why a broadcast is just good. Chris and I were clicking as a duo and there's an obvious chemistry. We have fun together and we want it to come across. Tonight, it seemed it. I try to call the nuts and bolts with excitement and detail and he breaks it all down in detail.

It works.

And we make you a part of it.

Sometimes you don't want to hear about the non-football elements that we drop in but that's how we're going to call the game.

As I said, it works.

So, as I came home tonight, I found myself thinking about that.

About the texts, emails, and messages that I received thanking us for the shout-outs and the humor.

Most of all, just thanks for broadcasting the game. 

We get it. We're the conduits.

The athletes are the stars.

We're the voices that deliver the information.

And we had a pretty good night.