Home After a Long Day

Tom Seaver in a vintage 1927 Yankees hat and vintage (with Phil Rizzuto and George Grande) from July 4, 1989 on WPIX is everything.

I don't know that I have much to say tonight.

Or much to say that is good.

OK, I can tell you that Shawn Sailer and I were joined by Jackson Vicente tonight as Trumbull beat Danbury 16-0 in Babe Ruth baseball.

Jackson was very composed for a kid who has never done it before. He'll get better. No ego, no braggadocio, but still comfortable and confident.

That's what I love in a young broadcaster.

A 16-0 game isn't easy to broadcast and we did just fine.

We'll see what tomorrow brings us.

Lucky Lou

(New York Daily News)

It was July 4, 1939. It was a hot, muggy day in New York City.

At Yankee Stadium in The Bronx, the Washington Senators (today, the Minnesota Twins) were in for a holiday doubleheader, as was baseball tradition at the time.

The Senators, limping through another bad season in which they'd finish 65-87, beat the Yankees in the first game, 3-2. Dutch Leonard, on his way to his best season, pitched a six-hitter.

Officially, 61,808 fans rattled the girders of the grand old ballpark.

The games were an afterthought. The crowd was there for the ceremony between games.

It was Lou Gehrig Day.

Lou -- the Iron Horse -- was dying, but not everyone knew that. He had been to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota after a dreadful start to the '39 season. He knew he didn't feel right. His power was gone.

He soon found out that he had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS).

Soon to be known as "Lou Gehrig's Disease."

Lou took himself out of the lineup in Detroit on May 2. For the first time since 1925, Gehrig's name would not play. His consecutive game playing streak was over at 2,130 games. The record would stand until 1995.

The thinking was that Gehrig was done playing ball, but then what? Nobody seemed to understand that ALS was -- and still is -- fatal.

Few knew the cause or that it wasn't contagious. Some said Lou was so dedicated to his streak that he brought the disease upon himself. One writer called him "soft and washed up."

Larrapin' Lou was as popular as anyone in sports due to there not being a bad word to say about him. Humble, though a penny-pincher, he doted on his wife and his mother, who detested each other.

In Richard Sandomir's book The Pride of the Yankees, he writes that Lou and his wife, Eleanor,  worked on a speech, however, no proof has ever come of that. Eleanor was known to keep scrapbooks of his exploits. No copy of a speech exists.

Between games at Yankee Stadium, the Senators and Yankees were joined by members of the 1927 Yankees and other guests. The famed Murderer's Row had reassembled with Babe Ruth front and center. Ruth was one of several to speak that day, with sportswriter Sid Mercer serving as the emcee.

Gifts were distributed to Gehrig: a fishing rod, a framed parchment that said "DON'T QUIT" on it, a ring, bowls, and other trinkets.

Gehrig, head bowed and nearly mute for the entire ceremony, motioned to Mercer that he would not be speaking. The crowd chanted, "We want Lou."

It took Yankees manager Joe McCarthy to get Lou to approach the microphone. Guiding him in a fatherly way, whispering a word into Lou's ear, the manager was able to convince him to address the crowd.

Eventually, Yankee Stadium went dead silent.

Sadly, there is no complete transcript of the speech. There are only bits of movie reels with just four lines intact (marked in bold). What I've placed below is the work of Jonathan Eig, in his book Luckiest Man: The Life and Death of Lou Gehrig. To this day, it's still the finest biography I've ever read.

Gehrig began to speak the Gettysburg Address of sports.


For the past two weeks, you have been reading about a bad break. Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.

When you look around, would you consider it a privilege to associate yourself with such fine-looking men as are standing uniform in the ballpark today?

Sure, I’m lucky.

Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with such a wonderful little fellow as Miller Huggins? To have spent the next nine years with that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Who wouldn't feel honored to room with such a grand guy as Bill Dickey?

When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift -- that's something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and office staff and writers and old-timers and players and concessionaires all remember you with trophies -- that's something.

When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles against her own daughter -- that's something.

When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body -- it's a blessing. When you have a wife who been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed -- that's the finest I know.

So I close in saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for.

Thank you.

Ruth hugged his former teammate and broke the tension. Lou's famous dimples finally appeared as he smiled.

"I saw strong men weep this afternoon," Shirley Povich wrote in The Washington Post.

Lou would stay with the Yankees through the end of 1939, as the Bombers steamrolled through the American League and quickly dispatched the Cincinnati Reds in the World Series.

He would work for Mayor Fiorella LaGuardia as a parole officer until he was too weak. He died on June 2, 1941, seventeen days shy of his 38th birthday.

The Yankees carried on in the second game and beat the Senators 11-1.

Eighty years ago today.

And a Very Pleasant Good Evening To You

No, Vin. We miss you. Bad.

I'm watching the Mets play the Yankees on SNY.

That's the Mets' TV channel.

So, yeah.

In a week in which John Sterling has announced that he's taking roughly a week off to rest up -- the first Yankees games he'll miss since 1989 -- we now find out that Michael Kay will miss a month as he has vocal cord surgery.

I've reached a point where I just need to stop myself. I've said way too much about such things, often to my own detriment and it comes off as petty and unprofessional. I have to say that stuff offline, but sometimes I can't help myself.

I'll just say that the YES Network could use Bob Lorenz, John Flaherty, and Ken Singleton while Kay and Sterling are both out. They could pluck someone from their minor league teams. They could go way outside of the box to a halfway-decent New York/Connecticut-based play-by-play voice from WGCH.

But YES will do YES things.

It all reminded me of how much broadcasting misses Vin Scully and Ernie Harwell and Mel Allen and Red Barber and Dick Enberg and Pat Summerall and Ray Scott and Dizzy Dean (if you want personality) and obviously many others.

You know that Vinny, still sharp at 91, could come into a booth right now and be fantastic. He'd say no, of course, because that's him. Always modest.

But I'd say yes. Only on YES.

We miss his grace. His ability to tell a story. His unbiased approach with a zest for the sport and the love of the roar of the crowd. His integrity.

Yes I realize I have waxed poetic about him so many times and you're likely sick of it.

But tonight I found myself missing his brilliance.

I know there are fine broadcasters today. Joe Davis has stepped into Vin's booth seamlessly in LA, for instance.

I know there are young broadcasters coming up who will find a way to honor the profession. I've tried to help mold some. Hopefully, they'll merge the basics of play-by-play with the modern touches.

Old/new. No need to get off my lawn.

Just call the game accurately. Professionally. Energetically.

Tell stories. Stories that will entertain and inform.

Report.

Stop exaggerating. Use your own voice. Be natural.

If you've said "gargantuan," stop. Now. Because it probably wasn't.

Jets/Colts in Super Bowl III was monstrous. Gargantuan? In its impact, I suppose.

But a late touchdown in a high school football game is not gargantuan.

Do as Red Barber told Vin: "Bring the one thing that nobody else brings to the booth. Yourself."

In short, be everything that Scott Pelley said to me yesterday on Doubleheader (and in his book), because not only do we need a new generation of journalists, we need a new generation of sports journalists also.

I'm babbling here, but I needed to talk about it.

The Yankees just beat the Mets.

I watched it on SNY.

Honestly, that should tell you everything.

(Speaking of broadcasting, here's tonights Fairfield American/Monroe Little League baseball game)

The Podcast Is Back (with Scott Pelley)

(Photo: YouTube)

Earlier today, I spoke with Scott Pelley of CBS News on Doubleheader.

Now a correspondent for 60 Minutes, the former Managing Editor and Anchor of the CBS Evening News graciously agreed to appear on the show to discuss his new book, Truth Worth Telling: A Reporter's Search for Meaning in the Stories of Our Times.

I mentioned Susan a few times during the interview, so as a companion piece to the podcast, why don't you read Susan's story on the book (Darien Times)? She interviewed Mr. Pelley a few weeks back.

We're in such a bad time in journalism. There's a war on journalists as we all know, and it's not fun. Scott Pelley is -- to me -- one of the most prominent people I trust in journalism. This interview was a thrill for me, and I hope it sounds good.

We need people to trust in this business at every level. Fair, honest, accurate people in news and sports.

Thanks to WGCH for allowing me to use the audio of course.

Enjoy the podcast. It's a different avenue tonight, but one I'll try again with other guests.
 

Halftime

They can play "Sweet Victory" here (Nickelodeon)

Vin Scully, on CBS: "And Adams takes a knee to lead his team into the break. Adams, of course, is day to day, but then again, aren't we all?"

OK, maybe he didn't say that.

We've reached the midway point of 2019.

Halftime on this #Project365 thing.

As I got closer to this point in the year, I found myself pondering the same thoughts I've had all along:

- Am I a better writer due to this?
- Does anyone care about these posts?
- Have they been impactful?

There are a few things that have stood out to me this year, but otherwise, I've tried to stay exactly the same as I've been since I started the bloggeroo in 2006. I've remained honest, opinionated, and (at times) picked my battles.

Basically, none of that has changed.

I spoke openly about some deep stuff. Every night didn't produce Shakespearean brilliance.

Check that. NO post produced brilliance of any sort.

John Nash and I often laugh that he coerced me into doing this project, but the truth is that I'm so grateful to him.

There were times that I was going to end the blog. I wanted to get to 10 years. OK, I got there in 2016. The posts were dwindling, to the point that I did just 35 last year. That was my lowest post total ever.

I posted twice at the end of 2018 to see if I could resurrect it one last time. Then came #Project365.

There have been nights that I've struggled to meet the deadline. One night, I pulled over at the Darinor Plaza after a game that I called and sat near the Old Navy with a hot spot on to get a post up. Other nights I've literally kept myself awake.

Some nights, all I had was a game broadcast or something small. But I still posted. I stayed true.

It's become a habit. It's become a guiding light for me. Some nights it's an albatross. Some nights it's a joy.

But I've done it every day for six months (plus two days).

I'm no brilliant award-winner. No no. I will never be as good as other heroes.

Save your likes and huzzahs for those fine folks.

I'll just be over here, trying to write this for another six months (and hopefully more).

*****

Mike Hirn and I were both a little annoyed at a fairly insulting comment in the Play-by-Play group on Facebook. A member of the group wrote that calling games from a studio (as I've done a few times for Local Live) was "acting" and "lazy."

That's the short version. After much thought, I responded:

So let me see if I've got this straight: a company I work for wants me to call a game from their studio, thus allowing me to earn a living and do my job, and I'm lazy? Wow. 

Guess what? If I don't do it, they'll find someone else. 

I've done it maybe three times because the company trusts my talent and they know I'm as authentic as they come. I don't "act." My viewers/listeners know where I am and I don't insult them. 

I do my due diligence. I get pronunciations. 

Would I rather be there? You bet -- 100% of the time. No question. But as has been said by others, I get nat sound and at that point, the call is just like any other call, and the reviews are good.  

I'd rather get on board with this than be left at the station.

Mike also responded. Firmly. About people being on their high horses. He's right.

Our comments have been deleted by some moderator who didn't have the decency to discuss it with me (or Mike). That's their business. It's my business to repost it here.

I'm considering next steps on this and will keep you updated if necessary.

Deleting worthwhile conversations does not promote a thing. It just creates a dishonest utopia.

Reality bites.

*****

Last thing: Tyler Skaggs was a 27-year-old pitcher for the Los Angeles Angels.

He was found dead this morning in a hotel room in Texas.

Again, he was 27.

Hug your loved ones tonight.

The Sunday Meltdown

Kevin Durant and Steve Kerr (AP Photo/Steve Dykes)

Quite a day so far, no?

Let's start with the news from the NBA. Oh, I know that we don't do much NBA here, but then again, why? Because the Knicks (and the Nets also) have been largely uninspiring.

The Knicks remain so. The Nets are now in the conversation to win a title after reports have surfaced that the Brooklyn squad have acquired Kevin Durant (injured, yes), Kyrie Irving and DeAndre Jordan. That's according to Adrian Wojnarowski on Twitter.

So Knicks: What. The. ****?

It's been almost 50 years since '69-70, 46 years since their last title in '73, 25 years since they were up 3-2 the night of the OJ Bronco chase, and 20 years since their run as an eight-seed to the Finals where the Spurs laughed at them.

They suck. Plain and simple. They are the worst franchise in New York, by a hair over the dysfunction in Queens*.

*Oh I was told last night that I would be best served to avoid writing about the Mets. Is it OK if I do so anyway? Because, you know, it's not like I'm supposed to try to write (and say) interesting content or anything. Thanks for the permission.

However, one other thing. If this -- remember, this is sports -- causes you such pain that you say you're essentially unhappy in your life, I have two options for you: 1) Stop because you're being overdramatic (and embarrassing), or 2) seek therapy. Seriously. Get help because it's sort of pathetic.

I love sports. They've brought me joy (and, yes, heartache) but the sun came up the next day. Myriad big game losses and other minutiae never changed the fact that life does, indeed, go on. I've functioned completely the day after, with the one exception being the time that I didn't have to work and I was told we were getting out of town for the day.

I have love, a son, a mother, friends, nieces, nephews, siblings, cousins, and so on.

Check your priorities.

Here endeth the lesson.

*****
Originally, this post was going to be about sports broadcasting (a shock, I know). I paid super close attention to the Yankees/Red Sox calls this weekend while they were in London, and decided to really listen to the ESPN TV feed today.

I rigged up a system where I could listen to the call while I mowed the lawn, thus forcing me to pay closer attention.

Yes, I could have opted for the ESPN Radio call, but I'm not a big fan of that either, and I decided to pass on John and Suzyn because I really wanted to give ESPN TV a chance.

What an unmitigated disaster.

Before you come at me about Jessica Mendoza, let me say this: she knows the game. No question. She also seems great. Just super approachable. What has finally hit me about her is that the Sunday Night Baseball group doesn't utilize her directly. Let her work in a smaller format and maybe she can do some good.

Then she'll open up about pitching and playing the game, and not just statistics. She has a good personality for this. It needs the right forum to shine.

Alex Rodriguez can also be a very good analyst but he's so busy being A-Rod that we forget that few prepare harder. He also definitely knows the game.

Both of these analysts actually brought good information at times.

It's Matt Vasgersian who is the problem.

The list of mistakes is too numerous to count, from misidentified players to a complete whiff on the album cover of The Beatles' Abbey Road. It's a fairly iconic picture, and his take was, well, extraordinarily bad.

"John was second and George didn't have shoes on," he said. Wow. Beatles fan you're not. Please turn in your card.

Supposedly, the game was being played in "Central Europe." Um. Nope. If it was one mistake, OK -- it happens.

Let's not forget the ball that Aaron Hicks hit off his shin, and Mr. V wondering "if he lost his footing."

Then there was a cheap shot he took at Philadelphia while talking about art, and "they have a guy like that in Philly, but he will paint the side of your car.”

Some people think they're just so funny.

Oh and the whole broadcast got it wrong about the Yankees wearing pinstripes as a road team, having done so in 2004 in Japan.

But that aside, there was just so much that had me literally yelling while pushing the mower around.

From a "nuts and bolts" perspective, doing TV doesn't mean that you should ignore your responsibility to, you know, call the game. I still firmly believe in the basic elements, such as simple details of scores, ball, strike, outs, and where the play goes.

Joe Buck does this exceptionally well and, of course, there's Vin Scully, who knew that he might have someone in the audience who couldn't watch for some reason.

From underneath my headphones, "Mattie V" rarely gave me the score, and I waited patiently for pertinent details of where the ball was.

At times, either A-Rod or Jess were talking as the ball was being in play. I prefer that analysts working with me stop talking at the point of the pitch being thrown.

That's just me.

This all served as a great reminder for me that people rely on the words and the pictures. Audio and video work together, and that's why the 1980 "announcerless broadcast" was awful.

But there's no question that FOX did a superior job over ESPN this weekend in London, and that Joe Buck is actually underappreciated. Sorry -- but I'm saying it.

It was a day for truly unlistenable broadcasts -- in London, as well as in Connecticut.

Ace Baseball Thoughts

Brett Gardner, right, celebrates with teammate Gleyber Torres after a home run. (Photo: Tim Ireland, AP)

I'm a Yankees doodle dandy...

I'm sort of knackered tonight (it's British for extremely tired) so I thought I'd write for a squizz (a look or a moment).

If you care about baseball even slightly, then you know the Yankees and Red Sox met in London today. The final score was a ridiculous 17-13. It was 6-6 after one.

They had nearly 60,000 at London Stadium for a game that took nearly five hours to play. That's right -- it was nearly the longest nine-inning game in history.

That, in my opinion, doesn't help baseball's case to become truly international.

But MLB commissioner Rob Manfred will see 60,000 people and lots of merchandise sold. So all good.

On the other hand, fans got numerous home runs, including a shot from legit superstar Aaron Judge.

The PR factor for MLB was otherwise quite good, give the appearance of Price Harry and Meghan Markle.

But MLB sending Angel Hernandez to serve as an umpire was just bizarre.

Of course, fans also had Joe Buck and John Smoltz to whine about. Trust me when I say that they sound like Vin Scully and Red Barber (yes, two play-by-play guys, but work with me here) when compared to how ESPN's crew will sound tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.

I'm fairly convinced that I'll have that on mute and listen to John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman.

Back here in the States, they honored the 1969 Mets who authored, of course, a miracle.

I had -- probably -- another 500 words about how Gil Hodges isn't a Hall of Famer, and was it really a "miracle," and how it probably wasn't the greatest sports story in New York history, as they tried to say today.

Then I watched the 2019 team blow another lead, get the tying and winning runs on base and leave them stranded right there in another excruciating loss.

I can't bring myself to do it.

Being the Mets fans I like are gutted, I can't be that cheeky.

More British words.

Missing The Road

I love the sight of the Delaware Memorial Bridge Twin Span in the morning

The Fourth of July is next Thursday.

Of course, that's a great time for a road trip.

Man, do I miss it.

I got a chance to drive down to the Philadelphia area for the World Selects hockey tournament back in May, and that was great but something was missing.

It's not all fun and games in the walk up to traveling. There's the stress of making sure all I's are dotted and T's are crossed before leaving.

Packing, buying supplies, and securing all necessary transportation. All part of the fun.

What's missing for me (because I'm nuts), is getting on the road before sunrise.

I love -- like, love love love -- the peace and serenity of dead quiet and empty roads.

When we travel to North Carolina, we leave around 5:30 a.m. simply because I don't want to be obnoxious to my co-travelers. When I drove to Charleston, S.C. by myself in 2012, I was ready to leave around 3:45 a.m.

Yes. I'm nuts.

I miss the days of driving to Florida with my family. We'd leave early on a bitterly cold December or February morning. We'd shed the winter jackets -- slowly -- as we would get into Virginia or wherever.

We'd leave our Howard Johnson's in, say, Florence, S.C. on our second day of driving and it would be just us and a few trucks on Interstate 95 in the pitch black pre-dawn hours.

For the most part, it was my dad driving, my mom and sister in the back, and me in the co-pilot seat. My I-95 book in my hand, and a boombox radio in my lap (we only had AM radio in the 1978 Chevy Impala).

These days, I happily settle for driving from New York to Fayetteville, N.C.

But I miss going to all kinds of places on the road. I miss Cooperstown, Maine, Pittsburgh, Ohio, and beyond.

The first (and only time) I was in either Alabama or Mississippi was to and from New Orleans to visit family in 1975. We drove. I can still remember large pieces of it.

There's a culture to it all. The food, the entertainment (radio), the roadside stops (South of the Border? Hello?).

Each state has a different feeling to it. I realize that's more of a mental thing to me, but I feel a change as soon as I cross each state line.

There's a strategy to it, such as making the best time and keeping up the driving energy.

People hate I-95, and I certainly have cursed parts of it. But it also flows through my soul.

I'm babbling, of course. I could write a whole lot more.

Of motels and gas stations and Wawa and Waffle House and radio stations and mile after mile after mile.

I've got stories. Lots.

I need a road trip.

Stat.

Mike and the Mad Mets

(Awful Announcing)

Mike Francesa freaked out today and it was glorious.

I put Mike on while I was stuck in horrible traffic on the Merritt Parkway to see what was going on.

I've listened to Mike (and of course his former partner, Christopher "Mad Dog" Russo) since the late 1980s.

Given I didn't necessarily intend to wind up doing sports talk, few people have had more of an impact on me in that side of broadcasting than Mike and the Mad Dog.

Down in Philadelphia, the New York Mets had just taken a 3-1 lead in the ninth inning. Mike, watching the game on TV from his studio, felt the Mets had to win this game.

It ended badly, with the Phillies striking for six runs in the bottom of the ninth to grab a 6-3 win.

Mike flipped out and it made for great radio.

Most of you heard the clip of Mike Francesa exploding after Edwin Diaz blew the game for the #Mets today. Here are the highlights of him watching the entire bottom of the 9th unfold. And yes... it's glorious. 💣 pic.twitter.com/RnnPLQjHYE

— Ƒunhouse (@BackAftaThis) June 28, 2019

This was vintage Francesa. This was the kind of thing that made Mike and Mad Dog appointing listening for me. It was among the first things Shawn Sailer and I talked about when we met for the Fairfield American/Fairfield National little league baseball broadcast.

When Mike was on his game, he'd have me howling with laughter, even if it was about the Yankees.

Few interviewed like him (and Dog). Few were this compelling.

He spoke for all Mets fans today when said to just let the 1969 Mets play instead of the current dumpster fire.

My listening habits have changed over the past decade. There was a time when WFAN was all I listened to. But then Imus went over the WABC and Mike and Dog split up. Steve Somers is still great, but most of the rest of 'FAN isn't my cup of tea.

I turn off the Yankees on WFAN when Joe Benigno's voice comes on a commercial, for instance.

Look, I know you either love or hate Mike Francesa. There are times he infuriated me, but the brilliance of Mike and the Mad Dog was that ticking off the listener just made you want to come back the next day.

I feel that way today.

Off The Bench '19

I was going to call this post "Nothing, Part II." But I found a few nuggets, so let me hit you with a few things, to give it the ol' college try. This is what I occasionally called "Off the Bench."

- Bob Ley is retiring from ESPN after 40 years. I think we all had a feeling something was up when he took a leave of absence. Magnificence doesn't sum it up. Class, grace, eloquence, integrity -- just a few of the words I'll think of when it comes to him.  In the midst of the haha's around the World Wide Leader, Bob was a journalist. Thank you, sir.

- I listened to Huey Lewis and the News' Four Chords and Several Years Ago completely last night, probably for the first time in years. That album has aged quite well in my opinion. Classic R&B and soul tunes as interpreted by our guys. Sadly this is when they were in the vacuum of adult contemporary radio. "But It's Alright" was a minor hit, but there are songs on there that come across really well live, especially "(She's) Some Kind of Wonderful." If they were still touring.

- As I mentioned last night, The Clubhouse is back tonight at 7 p.m. on WGCH and Robcasting Radio. Mark, Dave, me. Listen. We're kind of fun.

- I've got baseball tomorrow, as Fairfield American plays Fairfield National. Shawn Sailer might not be along so there could be an opening to join me. That being said, I don't mind calling a game solo. Also, setup will likely be weird as I'll need to string some power to ... er ... somewhere, probably near some FALL fans because they know what I'm doing there. The Unity Park little league press boxes aren't media-friendly, because a scoreboard operator and PA announcer are needed up there. Game time is 5:30 on Robcasting Radio on Mixlr! (I make no promises, but I might try to put the game on the other outlets that we used for the convenience of our listeners)

- Chris Simms dared to call Tom Brady his ninth-best quarterback in his preseason rankings. Of course, who cares, except they care in Boston, and Alex Reimer of WEEI proves that very thing.

- The Yankees are very good. The Mets are a mess. Right now. As always, talk to me in October.

- Speaking of the Yankees, the numbers for visits to this blog fascinate me. I thought the Don Larsen/Old Timer's Day post was actually decent writing on my part, but it generated very low reads. Ah, well. We don't do it here for the clicks but as a sports guy, the numbers are interesting. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

- Oh yeah, since I'm writing early today, allow me to say I'm going to try to do Doubleheader today at 3 p.m. on WGCH. Magic. Mirth. Merriment. Mets! Oh and Yankees and lots more. See you then.

Nothing

So I've got nothing tonight.

Literally zero.

You wouldn't want to read it even if I did write it.

So, yeah, I've got nothing. Let's go with that.

See you tomorrow.

The Clubhouse is at 7 p.m. on Robcasting and WGCH.

Mixlr appears to be fixed and I expect to be back Thursday for Fairfield American Little League baseball.

Here are Huey Lewis and The News (not to be confused with The Beatles).

Fairfield American Wins Again, and My God is NOTHING Sacred?

Let's see the Yankees wear these circa 1904 uniforms.

Let's first visit with Fairfield American Little League baseball.

They beat Trumbull American tonight at Unity Park. We'll see them again on Thursday back in Trumbull against Fairfield National at what they call Unity 3 (or Field 3). Game time is 5:30.

If all goes well, FALL will be back on Mixlr on Thursday night. If not, we'll do the YouTube/Robcasting 2 combo. Here's how it sounded tonight.


I came across another embarrassing uniform item from the world of baseball that I completely realize makes me look like I'm telling everyone to get off my lawn.

But I'll go ahead and give the NY Post the click by linking to their story that says the Yankees will wear black uniforms on Players Weekend.

What's worse is that Players Weekend (which I don't like to begin with) is in August when the Yankees play the Dodgers in Los Angeles. I mean you're talking about two of the most iconic uniforms in sports, but let's go ahead and make it a novelty.

Again, I get it. There are bigger things to get upset about. Unwritten rules, players not hustling, a GM managing a team from home while watching TV, and so on.

But I'm a uniform guy. I need to not care, but I suppose that's why I write about it here.

In an era of pink and blue uniforms and stars and stripes uniforms and camo uniforms, I know I shouldn't care. I love throwbacks (which isn't easy by can be done when it comes to the Yankees) but, well, so it goes.

In minor league baseball, different uniforms are a thing and for good reason. Some of them are brutally ugly and thus great.

With the Yankees, I guess I just want the home pinstripes and the road grays. But this is 2019, and I'm not the target demographic. So it goes.

Oh well. Time for me to find something else to get annoyed at. Like the broadcasting choices for this weekend in London, when the Yankees meet the Red Sox.

Just say no, friends.

Don Larsen and Old Timer's Day

It's Old Timer's Day at Yankee Stadium.

Oh yeah, I get it. Yankees Universe showing Yankees Arrogance at its Yankees Most Obnoxious.

For me, it's an absolutely glorious day.

Those 27 rings are shiny brightly today as Gator, Boomer, Coney, Tino, Bucky, Mo, Paulie have all been introduced.

It evokes memories of watching as a little boy when Joe D, the Mick, Casey, Whitey, and the Scooter would lead the cheers.

Back then, the widows of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig would elicit cheers.

Today, it's Catfish Hunter, Billy Martin, Mel Stottlemyre, Thurman Munson and one Mr. Bobby Ray Murcer who are represented by their wives.

The Great Mariano was the last great to be introduced.

Remembering Mel

There's occasionally talk that Old Timer's Day should end. Maybe it's because of the "lesser known" names that also attend, but that's part of the charm of the day. The idea is to bring up the memories of all eras.

It matters so much that the Houston Astros -- today's regular game opponent -- have come into their dugout to watch.

Sure, I loved the days when opponents would be there. Willie Mays was there when I was in attendance one time. It doesn't need to be all Yankees to be a great day for me.

My memories of Old Timer's Day are plentiful, such as watching Bobby Murcer play in his very first one -- in person -- in 1983 and getting to see Roger Maris and other heroes.

But the title of this thread includes Don Larsen who, along with Dr. Bobby Brown (94 years of age, who walked out under his own power), are the two oldest players there.

Larsen, the 1956 World Series perfect game pitcher was wheeled out initially, before taking his walker the rest of the way to join his fellow perfect game friends David Wells ('98) and David Cone ('99).

I was in the Jefferson Valley Mall sometime in the 1990s when I looked in the center court area at an older man sitting on a stage. He had someone sitting with him and they were just talking. Nearby, a table held some pictures.

Don Larsen, the imperfect man who was perfect for a day, was there to sign autographs. Except nobody was paying any attention.

I have autographs, but I'm not a collector of them. They're cool, but meh. But this was Don Larsen, and part of me almost felt bad.

So I bought a picture and walked up. He signed politely, and my mind wandered to find something to say.

"I hope we see you back in The Bronx one day," I think I mustered. "Do you think you'll be back at Old Timer's Day?"

"Nah," he said. "I don't think anyone cares about seeing me around."

Keep in mind this is a man who authored the game that Vin Scully called, "The greatest game ever pitched in baseball history." It was October 8, 1956. There were 64, 519 in attendance at Yankee Stadium. There were no hits in the game until Mickey Mantle homered in the fifth. Mantle also had to track down a long fly ball off of Gil Hodges in center to keep the perfect game alive. Andy Carey and Gil McDougald worked together on a 5-6-3 putout to get Jackie Robinson at another point.

Larsen, by all accounts hungover and not expecting to play, needed just 97 pitches to get the 2-0 win and give the Yankees a 3-2 lead in the Series. They'd win the title in seven as Yogi Berra homered twice in Brooklyn.

As for Larsen, he indeed was invited back to The Bronx. I recall the 40th anniversary of the perfect game beginning an era of him being a regular attendee. Of course, he was there for Yogi Berra Day in 1999, when he watched Cone author his perfect game.

So when I see Don Larsen, who is nearly 90, at Old Timer's Day, it reminds me of what felt like a sad day at the Jefferson Valley Mall. Imagine he was sitting there now signing autographs?

We care about you, Mr. Larsen. The standing ovation you received today is proof of that.

Getting The Job Done (FALL/Westport LL Baseball)

The day began no better than last night ended.

Mixlr, my usually trusted broadcast streaming service, was still having massive technical issues.

Through pure determination and resourcefulness, I made sure the Fairfield American/Westport Little League baseball game got on the air.

I wrote about all of this last night but went to bed with the hope that everything would work out. With Mixlr never coming back online, I was stuck with Plan B (and C).

Upon arriving at Unity Park in Trumbull, Shawn Sailer and I set about finding our broadcast location (thanks to the people from Trumbull for giving us a table under a tent with a good view).

It took me some time to remind myself how to do it, but I set us up on YouTube and utilized our underused WGCH 2 (aka Robcasting 2) web stream.

Couple that with the lineups and we were almost set.

As for the game, Westport grabbed a 3-0 lead in the bottom of the fourth on a Jared Lessing grand slam.

Check this out on Chirbit

 FALL chipped away with three in the fourth and two in the fifth before holding on for a 5-4 lead.

We were critical of the umpires for a missed call in the bottom of the fourth, but I also thought we were fair. They missed the call, but the home plate umpire made a point to come over after the game and tell us we did a good job.

We're that close to home plate that they can hear us.

The bottom line is to always get on the air. No matter what, I was confident I would make a broadcast happen. That's the reason that I earned the MacGyver nickname a few years ago. I always tried anything to make a broadcast work in any way possible. That's when the repurposed fishing tackle box comes out, filled with adaptors and cables.

Those are the circumstances when I think of the "Johnny Come Lately" types who think they can just show up with some equipment and suddenly become Al Michaels. It's when I look at Shawn and say, "Let's see (INSERT NAME HERE) do this to get on the air."

The preparation and resourcefulness make the broadcast happen. I have too many stories and too many examples.

The broadcast is the endgame.

FALL plays Trumbull American at Unity Park on Monday at 5:30. Robcasting will be there.

We'll let you know which platform(s) it will run on.

Here's what the WGCH 2/Robcasting 2 feed sounded like:


Here's the YouTube feed:

Broadcast Alert (NOTE!)

I'm very pleased to say Robcasting Radio will be back in action tomorrow at Unity Park in Trumbull, as Fairfield American Little League (FALL) plays Westport.

Game time is 2 p.m and I'll have the call. Shawn Sailer will also be along.

However, please take note! 

Mixlr -- our trusted broadcast provider -- is having issues with service as we speak. While they're describing it as "Intermittent Issues," I'm describing it as "I can't log in."

So if I can fire up Mixlr tomorrow, then the broadcast will air online at http://mixlr.com/robcasting-radio and on the Mixlr app. Just search for Robcasting Radio.

However, if Mixlr does not work, I will put the broadcast on YouTube's Robcasting channel (following the link or search Robcasting on YouTube).

Please follow me on Twitter at double5 (and at RobcastingRadio) for updates. I'll also tag FALL_news and District 2 Little League.

We'll do our best to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Some things, sadly, are out of my control (such as Mixlr and internet problems).

*****
While we're talking, a shout out to fellow play-by-play announcer Michael Kay tonight. Michael is having issues with his voice to the point that his YES Network colleagues are doing all of the commercial reads. Paul O'Neill jokingly said that if any other Yankees homered tonight, that he'd take over the play-by-play.

You'd think that YES could get somebody to relieve him, and goodness knows I'm a mere 50 miles away!

Seriously, I've been there. I once had a really bad night with a cold during the HAN days when I was calling game after game. I know I handed to reigns off to John Kovach and Chris Kaelin a few times, and I stood nearby.

Trust me: I didn't like it, but I knew it was the right thing to do. It gave my voice a break, but it also gave JK and Kato some reps on play-by-play.

Kato was with me another time, back on WGCH, in Middletown for a Greenwich/Xavier hockey game (yes, that would make me The VOICE of Greenwich Hockey!). I felt my voice failing late in the first period and, sure enough, things were bad for the latter two. I pulled myself through it and survived, but it wasn't fun. The higher register in my voice was gone, and I had to call things at a lower volume.

So while I'm babbling here, I understand what Michael Kay is dealing with tonight.

Oh, last note: part of my North Carolina family is there tonight. With a Gary Sanchez home run, they're happy at the moment.

*****
So -- again -- aim to listen to Mixlr tomorrow, but be prepared for YouTube as a backup for FALL/Westport. Game time is 2 p.m.

Taking the Ramp

I-95 south, near Richmond, VA 2012

Alyssa Milano hasn't decided who she will endorse for the 2020 presidential election.

This, apparently, was news to the New York Post.

On Twitter, WABC radio host Juliet Huddy (rightfully) questioned why it was news. I quite agreed.

It's all about the clicks. Every little bit of speculation or utter nonsense is disseminated. Clicks. That's all. Juliet is on the money with this. https://t.co/KzxYOzs5V9

— Rob Adams (@double5) June 20, 2019

Sometimes, it's important to go right at a point.

But then again, as much as we want to drive straight downtown, we're often faced with a choice: the high road or the low road.

Everyone has had opportunities to address things or even get the "pound of flesh" so desperately desired. Everyone has faced that person or people who "went low."

From there, it's how we handle it.

That person could be an ex. They could be someone out to get you for some reason.

But even when we've got something, and no matter how great it might be to drop to their level, it's the right thing to be the better person.

My god, there are a lot of cliches on this highway.

Inevitably, your foe is going to swing and miss. You know, karma.

Or they always swing and miss.

And you're going to smile because, while you had the chance to take the low road, you went high.

Karma takes a while, and it sometimes feels lousy to stay above it all, but most of the time it's the right thing to do.

It will get them in the long run.

And you never showed your cards.

Oh, oh, Telephone Line, Give Me Some Time

Those were the days.

Dear Verizon,

We need to talk. I've been fairly loyal to your service for probably 15 years or more.

Keep in mind, I'm specifically talking about Verizon Wireless. Verizon (the mothership) Fios, we have some issues there also, but I'll cut you a break since I saw that you're returning the Weather Channel to my TV.

Small victories, I guess.

No, this is about my cell phone service.

Or lack thereof.

Let's start with my home. I'll be succinct: the service stinks. I've worked hard to get Wifi calling on my Apple devices (iPad and iPhone), but I'm still having dropped calls.

More drops than a bad wide receiver, amirite? (Even I'm groaning at that one)

If I want to text a picture to my own son -- yes, my own flesh and blood -- who for reasons unknown to me has an Android device, I have to go outside for him to receive it. Maybe.

Same goes with other Android users that I want to text. Because of unacceptable service, I have to go outside.

But today, for whatever reason, I had to pace in my road to have a cell phone conversation with a fellow Verizon iPhone user. Does that make sense?

Then there's driving. Oh I know, service drops are a fact of life, and this is where I'll take you slightly off the griddle, and say an extra HOWYADOIN! to the fine folks of Westchester County, NY.

Specifically, Bedford. Oh yeah, Pound Ridge, you get to join in this as well.

Go into Bedford Center. Lovely green down there, right? So perfect small town. So -- how did one resident put it? Ah, yes -- "bucolic."

Drive Long Ridge Road sometime. G'head. Just for the fun of it.

Head over to Scotts Corners. Pop into the market there, where I used to fill the shelves with lots of frozen treats!

Now use your phone, and hope your call doesn't drop. Numerous times. If you get service at all.

Lewisboro and North Salem aren't completely avoiding this conversation, and neither are Ridgefield, New Canaan, and some others in Connecticut.

But I feel a special rise in blood pressure when it comes to Bedford and Pound Ridge.

You see, it's one thing to have the usual 3-5 dropped calls when chatting with Paul or Susan or whomever.

Certainly, it's another when it's about something serious.

Like -- dare I say -- if my 82-year-old mother is driving through one of these areas.

She's on dialysis. She's getting around and doing her best. But what happens if she has a tire problem (you know, like I did a few weeks ago)? Or a more serious emergency?

How about if it happens on Long Ridge Road, right where there's no service. Think that's going to go well? Think the denizens of the lovely houses out there will welcome a stranger in to use a house phone? Think they'll call help for her?

I've been driving that stretch of road for years. I've been going through Pound Ridge for years as well. In each case, I simply call it, "The Dead Zone."

Ah, but wait. Now it's all starting to make sense. In the days of YOLO and OMG and YMMV, I bring you an oldie, but a goodie:

NIMBY.

That's right, friends. Not In My Back Yard.

Seems Verizon wants to put a cell tower in Bedford. Near Long Ridge Road.

Not so fast, say the well-heeled folks around the site. What a shock!

News12 reports from last year!

As always, here's my favorite part: "...residents say the tower is dangerous and would bring commercial traffic to a quiet neighborhood. Neighbors also say they are worried about the tower's appearance and what it would do to property values."

And there we have it. It's not Bedford residents' problem.

They can afford the lawyers.

So it sucks to be us.

Apparently, Lewisboro and Mount Kisco are among those who have also pushed back on towers. I've additionally seen grumbling here in Mahopac.

We'll continue to keep an eye on this whole thing, Verizon.

You're not entirely off the hook.

As your slogan once said: "Can you hear me now?"

Quite often, the answer is "no."

Watching The Yankees

Adam Ottavino (NY Post)

The Yankees currently have a 6-3 lead in The Bronx against the Rays.

In the house, we had niece Laura, husband Kelly, and kids Kendall and Emma.

Other niece Stephanie was here earlier and of course, Mom is here.

It was a nice long day of fun and food and moody teenagers.

And baseball. Specifically, Yankees baseball.

Kelly is from North Carolina and has never been to New York City.

He's going there tomorrow and going to Yankee Stadium on Friday.

So it was a perfect night to watch the Bombers.

Though everyone got tired and I'm watching it alone, we otherwise watched the whole thing until the bottom of the 8th.

It was nice to have some company to watch a baseball game.

But it also didn't allow me a lot of time to write tonight.

No complaints. Back to it tomorrow.

Incidentally, we don't have The Clubhouse this week, but we'll have another show next Wednesday.

Fairfield American Little League baseball will be on Robcasting beginning this Saturday.

Lastly, I meant to send my congratulations to the Greenwich High School class of 2019. Go do amazing things.

Musical Geniuses

These two. Of course.

Bruce Figler -- outstanding DJ on The Peak (107.1 FM) and all-around good guy -- poses a question/conundrum every week. He calls it "Gimme Five," and he challenges his Facebook friends to name five...something.

This week, he offered: "...looking for 5 musicians who, in your estimation, qualify as musical geniuses. (dead or alive)"

I thought about it for a few days, and I think I've got my five. Two are obvious for me (and they're above), but let's list the five, all of whom are from basically the same era ('60s-'70s):

- John Lennon (Imagine and a whole lot of Beatles)
- Paul McCartney (Eleanor Rigby is just one example of his brilliance, besides the solo work)
- Brian Wilson (Good Vibrations, for instance?)
- Carole King (It's Too Late is just stunning)
- Joni Mitchell (Coyote -- especially this version from The Last Waltz with The Band is...wow.)

Side note (Lennon/McCartney category): The collective brilliance of the lads is just breathtaking. Best count-in? One-Two-Three-FAW! Best opening note? A Hard Day's Night. Best closing note? A Day in the Life (which many critics think is the best song ever from the best album ever). These were just things I was ruminating about today.

Any others?

Now, there is so much we can do with this. After a long conversation, we can certainly debate the brilliance of Bach (ahhhh Bach!), Beethoven, Mozart, Gershwin, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Billy Joel, George Harrison, Johnny Cash, Elton John (but I feel Bernie Taupin, who wrote the words to Elton's brilliance, must be included), Barry Gibb, Barbra Streisand and a whole lot more. A lot of names were discussed, and I know I'm forgetting others.

Even Monkee Mike Nesmith (Papa Nez) and Huey Lewis came up, and while Huey is brilliant and extremely smart, I am not including him on this list. Just trying to be fair.

But I'm firm with my five. Personal preference and opinions all come into play with this, of course. However, unless I treat Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison as one entity (or John and Paul as one), there's no way I'm not including them. I don't think that's unfair.

The responses led to lots to consider, though you probably have to be one of Bruce's Facebook friends to see them.

So, friends, what do you have for me? Who are your five musical geniuses?

Father's Day

It's a Sunday in June.

Father's Day.

Did you know Father's Day didn't become official until 1972 when President Richard Nixon signed it into law? The things you learn!

From the "no secret" category, it's a day to miss my own dad, but still cherish being a father myself.

Sean is either asleep or just waking up as I write (at 10:22 a.m.) but he's also 17. So I get it.

I put one of my dad's favorite albums to listen to as I type.

The Drum Battle – Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich at JATP is a recording of a 1952 concert that served as a "showdown" between the two titans of jazz drumming. The brilliant fireworks of Krupa -- who revolutionized jazz drumming on "Sing Sing Sing" with Benny Goodman at Carnegie Hall in 1938 (we'll come back to that) -- combined with the explosiveness of Rich, made the windows of our house rattle more than once as Dad played the record on the hanging "HiFi" turntable in the living room.

My father had Goodman's Carnegie Hall concert on record, just as he did The Drum Battle. He handed me the precious Goodman records one night in the '80s and asked me to transfer them to cassette. He knew I'd treat it like it was the Honus Wagner T206 baseball card.

I still have that record, in its 1950s pressing. I also have his copy of The Drum Battle, originally from 1960, but I think he found it years later as I recall (probably at Caldor). Even further along, and long after he died, I found it on CD (probably around 2004). I did the same with the Goodman concert.

Dad was such a Big Band jazz guy, while I evolved deeper into Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck and Charlie Parker and so on. But I'll always thank him for giving me the initial nudge into the world of jazz music.

Instead of sitting here lamenting him not being around (and I miss him literally every day), I'm sitting here tapping my feet to Krupa kicking Rich's ass*, and life is good.

*Whether that is true or not isn't actually relevant. It's what my dad taught me. So in this case, we're good.

But not forgotten in talking about Father's Day is Sean. I was never content to simply be Dad. I wanted the relationship that I've written about here for years. I'm not content to simply have an absentee relationship. Nope. Not happening.

And I kept that promise. Any effort to try to paint me otherwise (trust me, people are ruthless) isn't worth the time of day.

In 2019, fathers are in all shapes, sizes, and descriptions. They all deserve saluting, from biological fathers to stepdads to father figures to pet fathers and anything else. I'm all for including everyone. Hallmark will happily sell the card!

Too often, bad fathers are highlighted. There are plenty of good and great fathers. Dads who serve as both mother and father. Dads who can do it all.

Happy father's day to everyone. Now go have a catch.