Another One of Those Nights

A couple of bums: Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth.

Welp.

I'm having one of those nights.

I'm tired and light on ideas to write about, so I'm just going to throw a few words together and move onto tomorrow.

Babe Ruth was born 125 years ago today in Baltimore, MD.

To me, he's the best ever. I get the knocks, but I think greatness overcomes that.

In short, Ruth would have adjusted. He was a beast of a player. A freak.

The numbers are still insane. The myths are incredible but the facts are almost too good to believe.

The scary thing is how, if he had taken care of himself and behaved a little better from, say 1924-1926, his numbers would be even scarier. Plus, consider if he wasn't the best left-handed pitcher in baseball from 1915-1919.

For instance, an "off year" for Ruth was 1922, when GHR hit .315 with 35 home runs and 96 RBIs. Or 1925: .290, 25, 67.

So I'm sticking with Ruth.

Give me a chance to start a team and Ruth will be my first pick every time.

After calling hockey yesterday from the Local Live command center in Stamford off a small video monitor, I'm back at a live game tomorrow as Brunswick basketball returns to action.

I'll see you then.

Sometimes The News is Hard to Buy

Me with my nieces, 1985. The T-shirt and the poster over my shoulder says it all

I have to do it.

I need to just log on, pay for it, and be done with it.

I have the money. That's not an issue at all.

This one is emotional for me.

I haven't bought the new -- and, most likely, last -- Huey Lewis and the News album. It can be pre-ordered now and comes out on Feb 14.

There have been many great pieces on TV and in print to promote the upcoming album, called Weather.

Get it? The News? Sports? Weather?

Sadly, we'll never see Traffic, I suppose.

Anyway, I'm pleased that the band has received the kind of attention they're getting, as I've long-lamented that they were often disrespected.

Look at so-called "top albums of the 80s" and you'll never see Sports or Fore! You're sure as heck never going to see any love for Picture This, Small World or the self-titled album that was "a little too new wave" (American Psycho, of course).

They were banned to the hell of "adult contemporary radio," where a brash young DJ played them generally once per shift on Majic 105 in 1990-1991. But rock radio, where they first hit? Nope. Once AC got their hands on the boys, that was over.

True story. When I did my first air shift -- Sept 2, 1990 -- I played "The Heart of Rock and Roll" in the first hour to calm my nerves down. All was right after that.

They weren't prolific writers, certainly non enough for a fairly strong fan base that hungered for more. After Hard at Play brought them into the 90s, they did a fantastic cover album called Four Chords and Several Years Ago. Then nothing until Plan B in 2001. Then an album of soul covers -- Soulsville -- in 2010.

Now comes Weather. The first album (but only seven tracks) of original songs in almost 19 years.

And I feel that, by purchasing it, I'm saying goodbye.

Yes, I know, I've heard you all. "You'll always have the music," you say. That, friends, doesn't get to the heart of the matter (Don Henley, 1989).

I have the music. On cassette. On CD. On vinyl. On my computer. In multiple versions within each format. I've got it. I treasure it. If I break my collection down (and I've seriously thought about it), my Huey Lewis stuff will remain (The Beatles also, naturally).

But this is saying goodbye to part of my life. Of knowing I'll never see them live again. Of knowing there's nothing new that will come out. Of almost feeling like my friends are done.

The News were more than just Huey. Johnny Colla, Sean Hopper, and Bill Gibson, along with departed members Chris Hayes and Mario Cipollina, started the band as Huey Lewis and the American Express in 1979 at a club called Uncle Charlies in Corte Madera, CA (which appeared in "The Power of Love" video). The band saw ups and downs, but were so likable that even their Behind the Music special was bland because there was no drama. They were just a classic bar band that combined old concepts (50s and 60s rock) with (then) newer technology.

And, by the way, I liked some of their "New Wave" stuff, regardless of what Patrick Bateman said.

They remained a solid, steady touring band. It didn't matter if it was Madison Square Garden, the Westbury Music Fair, the Charles Ives Center or Eisenhower Park (the Hary Chapin Theater). The venue was irrelevant. Ask literally anyone and they'll tell you that "HLN" always put on a great show every night. Plus they were just good guys.

Then came early 2018 and the discovery of Huey's Meniere’s disease. The band stopped touring immediately and haven't come back.

Huey keeps trying. He and the band (John Pierce replaced Cipollina on base while Stef Burns and James Harrah have both stepped in for Hayes on guitar*) booked some rehearsal time but things just didn't pan out. This story from Rolling Stone includes that heartbreaking nugget.

* Hayes is a criminally underrated guitarist. Playing in a jazz style, he found the perfect mix for rock and his solos were always tremendous. But he's so unassuming and never looked for the limelight. Even in a recent interview, he described himself as just a dad. But the guy is a tremendous guitarist. In fact, all of the News are outstanding musicians.

I realize Huey Lewis isn't dying. I get that he'll be active, including pushing for the possible Broadway debut of a jukebox musical featuring their hits (I have to admit I'm not a big fan of this).

Huey is doing press and that's great. He has an upcoming talk at the 92nd St Y in NYC and tickets are only $35 but I can't bring myself to 1) Buy tickets and 2) Get anyone to go with me.

But the band is likely done. I hope they still get together. I won't stop hoping.

But I also deal in reality.

It's dumb. These aren't The Beatles or whomever you're attached to. This isn't a Hall of Fame act, and they don't need to be.

They're (selfishly) my band. The band that -- to this day -- people identify me with.

And I'm struggling to say goodbye to a band that I've loved for over 35 years.

I'm walking on a thin line. My heart and soul are struggling.

I just have to hit checkout on the website.

I can't bring myself to do it.

My Head is Spinning

Mookie Betts looks baffled.

It's Bizarre-o-World tonight!

In Fantasyland, we glance at the State of the Union. Oh, for the love of Lincoln, this is just crazy.

Military families have reunited! Rush Limbaugh is presented the Presidential Medal of Freedom!

Politics aside, it's like the old Oprah bit. Is everyone getting a new car?

Is it Ellen's big giveaway night?

It was theater. That's for sure.

On the other hand, from Tomorowland, we have the trade of trades in baseball.

Mookie and Price to the Dodgers!

Joc Pederson to the Angels!

Kenta Maeda to the Twins!

Mass hysteria in Boston!

And yet -- YET -- some are playing the "What, me worry?" card for the Red Sox. They're under the salary threshold! All is well!

Then there's Frontierland, where it's all fallen apart for the New York Mets. They get their own special place that they can share with the New York Knicks.

Knicks fans are begging for a new owner, so what does the current owner do? Fire team president Steve Mills today.

And the Mets? Just wow. They thought they had their savior in Steve Cohen but, as of tonight, the sale of the team to him has hit a major snag, at least if we are to believe "reports."

Make sure to visit the gift shop on the way out!

Or a bar. You might need a drink.

Sorry, Radio Fans

The past two-plus weeks have been, well, how do I say this?

I've produced one show. A recorded one the day after Kobe Bryant died.

I've missed one game and tried to make everything else.

I was able to teach once.

Otherwise, I've been a whirling combination of things, alternating between pure exhaustion with sleepless nights and hopelessness while driving between Mahopac and Stratford, Darien, Greenwich, Poughkeepsie, Brewster, Carmel and all points in-between.

So how do I say it?

It's been a hell of a ride.

But I feel awful about missing "Doubleheader." Yes, I know, it makes me no money, but it's still my reputation and I've gathered it actually matters to some people.

I was raised to be responsible. I feel like I haven't been through these weeks. There have been good reasons -- legitimate reasons -- but I still feel badly.

So, I'm sorry. I intend to try again tomorrow (I was going to do a show today from home, but once again, those plans got scuttled and I did what I felt I should do).

I hope you'll join me at 4 p.m. on WGCH (1490 AM, 105.5 FM and wgch.com). I owe you a full Super Bowl roundup.

Short version? The game wasn't great but the finish was great. The halftime show wasn't great. The postgame show was a cluster**** (just stop it, NFL. Stop. It.). The pregame show featured too much Rob Riggle.

The broadcast was otherwise terrific and the Joe Buck haters can suck it. For one thing, nobody is willing to give a serious answer as to WHY he's bad. Last night, he and Troy Aikman were great.

The halftime show? Look, I watched the game with my mother. My mother will be 83 in April. I would have been uncomfortable watching the halftime show with my mother. My mother also would have annihilated J. Lo and Shakira.

My mother, thankfully, was asleep during the halftime show.

But, more seriously, I would have struggled with having young kids in the room, especially with the pole dancing stuff. I mean, this wasn't the Porn Hub Halftime Show presented by the Bada Bing!

(Please don't compare this to Adam Levine for myriad reasons, including I said he looked stupid shirtless last year)

I want young girls to believe they can anything they want to be. I want EVERYONE to believe they can do or be ANYTHING.

I love that a female was coaching in the Super Bowl.

What I love more is that I didn't think of her as being a female coaching in the Super Bowl until a commercial reminded me. She's a coach.

It's great that boundaries were broken. Two women leading the halftime show. Two women proud of their heritage. Two women (over 40) in phenomenal shape who are talented. Both are great dancers. Both are entertainers.

If you like lip-syncing, hey then, it was great! If you like singing? Nah. This wasn't your show.

(For the record, this guy named Paul McCartney was there last night. Plop him at the 50 yard line with an acoustic guitar and I would have been happy.)

What I don't love is that, if you dare to criticize, then you're brandished as a racist or a sexist. While that's a whole different post, it's a very troubling thing.

Anyway, the halftime show was entertaining. That's the short version.

It wasn't some "All-Time GREATEST" as people are so quick to want to say, but I didn't change the channel either.

We'll deal with all of it -- game, aftermath, and so on -- tomorrow at 4.

Super Bowl Sunday

Bradshaw to Franco in Super Bowl XIII

Well, here we are.

The food is being prepared. The TV is ready.

Millions -- more? -- have been spent on advertising, wings, pizza, merchandise, and so on.

It's Super Bowl Sunday.

Somewhere, between a crappy halftime show (it's now tradition to say so, even just to tick John Nash off) and an orgy of everything else (including a healthy level of ambivalence), we'll get a football game. And, hopefully, that game won't suck as much as Shakira and Jenny From The Block.

Or Maroon 5 (I had to and, yes, they still suck).

Regarding the halftime show, it's long past my time. It's not done for my musical taste (which is actually fairly vast).

We'll eventually have a country one that will make me contemplate my life as I sit with my rifle while sipping on a Bud long neck with a blonde wearing a cowboy hat in a denim skirt and a dog nearby. Not that country features the same themes or anything.
 The pregame show is already 45 minutes in. So long as they get the sponsors, they'll keep the show that long, or longer.

Like I said, it's an orgy.

I've just that I've gotten older. I don't feel the same way about it, and haven't for years. There's a sad level of overkill. Do I need a Saturday night awards show? No, and I didn't watch it. Your mileage may vary.

So I'll watch the game. I've even fallen asleep during it (like the last one in Miami, featuring the most overrated halftime show. Yup, I said it. Oooohhh...he played Purple Rain...in the RAIN!).

For the record, I've vacillated over the best halftime show. I'm starting to think it was U2 because it was sort of the right mix that was needed in the months after Sep 11, 2001. But I also loved Paul McCartney because, well, it's Paul. Mc. Cart. Ney.

But I'd sill take Up With People back. Or literally any marching band

Oh, I'm getting way off track here. Wait, there's a game to be played, right?

OK. I keep coming back to defensive football. The Steelers -- remember them, they're still tied for the most ever titles, with six -- won mostly on defense. Their offense played great in Super Bowl XIII (hence the picture at top) but it was their defense that won most of their titles.

They shut down the Vikings in Super IX.
The Cowboys scored 17 in X.
As I said, XIII was more of a shootout (35-31, and leave Jackie Smith out of it).
They found enough offense to put up 31 in XIV.
They allowed just 10 to the Seahawks in XL (and they 'Hawks are still crying about it).
James Harrison had a 100-yard pick six in XLIII.

Defense. I'd love to see Patrick Mahomes run wild for the Chiefs to garner the spirit of 65 toss power trap and grab their first Super Bowl title since 1970. But I suspect the Niners, who I'm sure bought extra wine (and whine) and cheese, will have their defense playing great.

Now, if Jimmy G has to throw the ball, then they might be in trouble. And if Mahomes can get going, then who knows?

Chico is very deep in thought on the Yankees blanket.

 But, for now, Chico the large gray cat says: "Niners 27, Chiefs 23." He's put a lot of thought into it.

Incidentally, six Steelers' titles, and not one defensive MVP. Franco Harris in IX, Lynn Swann in X, Terry Bradshaw in XIII and XIV, Hines Ward in XL, and Santonio Holmes (should have been Ben Roethlisberger but no way Roger Goodell would allow that) in XLIII.

Fire up the trivia machine. Get ready for useless facts!

The world of hating Joe Buck shall have their day of reckoning and I'll mock all of you for it!

And then?

Hockey...basketball...some other stuff...and...

BASEBALL! Pitchers and catchers are getting ready for spring training.

Enjoy the game and whatever else is around it.

Match Game '20

Get ready to match the stars! Bill Macy...Brett Somers...Charles Nelson Reilly...Elaine Joyce...Richard Dawson...and Betty White!

As we play the star-studded big money MATCH GAME '20!

And here's the star of the Match Game, Gene Rayburn!

"Thank you, and welcome. Let's skip forward, past meeting our contestants, and get to round number one!

"Rob Adams is so dumb"... (Audience: "HOW DUMB IS HE?!")

"He's so dumb his mind is BLANK!"

No, seriously. My mind is blank. I'm just one big scrambled egg and I've been trying to tell you that for roughly two weeks.

I was in Danbury yesterday when I had a feeling of deja vu.

"I was just here," I said out loud to nobody, except the ghost of Rob Past in the car. "But, when was it?"

It took a second. Maybe five. Then, suddenly, I blurted out...

"DUMMY! You were on this very road yesterday when you went to pick something up at Fed Ex!"

Just ugh.

I was driving to an appointment at another point when I went to make a right turn. Then I hesitated. Was I going the right way? (Full disclosure: Yes)

Come on, now.

I was back in my happy place, calling hockey and having fun today. When I got home, I was sitting on the couch. I passed out and was snoring so loudly I woke myself up.

So I'm just babbling. There's a football game tomorrow. Go team.

The rat race returns again on Monday.

By the way, Richard Dawson was always the best Match Game player by far, and there were no better years of Family Feud than the ones he hosted. But, damn, he matched players nearly every time. The guy was brilliant.

Broadcast. Entertainer.

Would Krusty make a good play-by-play announcer (The Simpsons)

Oh, boy.

I was looking in the forums at staatalent.com tonight (a place for sports broadcasters to converse) when a job caught my eye.

The title? "Baseball Broadcast Entertainer."

The job description was, well, it was. That's all.

"In this role you will consider the normal guidelines for baseball play-by-play then do . . . the exact . . . opposite."

That was only the opening sentence. The bullet points?

* Instead of describing the game, you'll talk about the game as fans do. "Why in the heck is the number 9 hitter swinging on 3-and-oh with the bases loaded?!"
* Instead of cookie-cutter home run calls, they want CHEESE. The cheesier the better!
* Instead of pre and post-game interviews on the field or in the locker room, you might do them from the shower.
* Instead of interviewing only players and coaches, you might interview fans, kids, local business people and front office staff.
* Instead of working with an ex-player as your analyst, you might work with rotating fan analysts or even players from the active roster!
* Other ideas include doing an inning of imitations of some of the famous broadcast calls of all time including, “Do You believe in Miracles?” Or you could be doing an inning of all movie quotes and famous song lyrics. You could possibly get suggestions from fans for a word of the night that you need to mix into your broadcast. You could also showcase the players in unique environments.

Now, before you say they're reinventing the wheel (or microphone in this case), please take a breath. We've already established otherwise (Mike Lange, Dizzy Dean, etc).

But, yeah, this clearly isn't my kind of job. I'm sure you have someone else in mind. And, hey, why not? Let the flavor of the month head to this college baseball league. This trend will wear itself out.

I'm a firm believer that one can still be a reporter and remain a professional and still have fun. I mean, I do it all the time, and we've been through all of that, so there's no need to go through it again.

Report. Inform. Educate. Entertain. To put it in hashtag form: #RIEE

All of that can be done without interviewing a player in the shower.

There are so many of us having a blast doing what we do. Don't let the ones who are leaning on stats and telling us WHO they know or trying to impress us with cutesy prepared lines on the legal pad next to them fool you.

I'm the only one of me...baby, that's the fun of me! (Picture: Psychcentral.com)

And while I'm at it, let me tell you a story that I've wanted to tell for some time. I had a chance a few years ago to take on a gig that wouldn't pay but I thought it would be a good thing to do anyway. With that in mind, I set out to find people who would be right for the broadcast.

I grabbed a friend who embraced it immediately. Then I had an out of the box idea. I thought of someone who I don't really know, but we're connected on social media.

I was going to ask a fellow broadcaster for a reference, but before I ever got to that point, I looked closer at their social media accounts, especially Instagram.

Every. Thing. Was. About. Them. You know how you can have a grid of pictures -- roughly 15 or so? Their face was in every picture. Every instastory was more narcissistic that the one before it. It quickly occurred to me that this person was only interested in one thing: Them. It was all about having the right look, job, life, and focusing on this almost-unrealistic view of perfection.

Noble goals. Sure.

But, it said nothing for them being able to be part of a broadcast team and I quickly got turned off.

And I never pursued it. And I've never seen anything to change my mind.

I've made social media mistakes. Trust me on that one. We post things we regret. But, the lesson (good and/or bad)? You never know who is watching/reading (or listening).

We all have egos. Mine is, frankly, a mess (talk to those who really know me and you'll understand). We have to have some ego to work in this business. We have to all have a little narcissism.

But, there's a line.

Those who cross it are perfect to be a Broadcast Entertainer. Come up with cheesy home run calls, out-sized exaggerations of every game, and cutesy perfect outfits.

Have at it.

You know where I'll be.

The Audition

It's a chilly January Thursday in London. It's lunchtime so, despite the cold, you decide to venture out.

You hear music. Really good music. And a crowd has formed.

It's January 30, 1969 and you're near 3 Savile Row, the address of the Apple Corps headquarters.

The Beatles are playing the famous "Rooftop Concert."

I can't guarantee how I would have reacted to such a thing at any age in my life, but I'm fairly certain "Holy ****" would have emerged from my mouth.

The Four Kings of EMI (as stated by The Monkees) played for 42 minutes, doing five versions of "Get Back" including the famous one where John Lennon says "I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we've passed the audition."

While the police from the nearby West End Central station eventually broke the party up, they're not exactly the heavies that they are made out to be. They, in fact, warned the gang at Apple Corps that they'd be over (thus giving everyone time to dispose of...um...well...time to flush the toilet and get rid of any scents) and actually let The Beatles finish a final version of "Get Back" (with John's famous quote) before shutting things down.

In truth, Savile Row had become snarled with incredible traffic -- vehicular and pedestrian.

The concert was part of the recording of the Let It Be album which, up to that point, hadn't gone too well.

Director Michael Lindsay-Hogg, filming his documentary Let It Be (which I've still never seen and is hard to find) had a crew on hand. Billy Preston -- brought in ostensibly to reduce tension among The Beatles -- was on keyboards. By that point, Paul wasn't thrilled with John or George, George threatened to quit, Ringo did quit at one point, John was on his way out, Ringo was happy to just be there and basically everyone hated Paul.

George Martin (for my money, the true "Fifth Beatle") produced the effort, with Glyn Johns engineering, as well as Alan Parsons, who sat in the basement of 3 Savile Row and recorded the music on two eight-track recorders. Some of what has been lost as the Lads goofed around on things such as "God Save The Queen" was a result of Parsons changing tapes.

Call it an "Alan Parsons Project."

Yes. Yes, I went there (and yes, it's the same guy).

Director Peter Jackson has a documentary coming out that he says will disprove that the Let It Be recording sessions weren't as bad as they've made out to be. I look forward to seeing that.

As for the audio of the Rooftop Concert, it exists in several forms. Some of it appeared as official releases in various places, including Anthology 3 and the Let It Be...Naked collections. I was given a bootleg of it years ago that I have on CD (thanks, Jon!).

I'm supposed to go to London for Hunt Scanlon later in 2020, and among my sites to see is 3 Savile Row -- now the location of a Abercrombie Kids store -- as well as a return to Abbey Road so I can get pictures at the crosswalk that I can actually keep (pictures of me there in 2000 are...er...unavailable).

Anyway, the audition turned out just fine, even if all was about to end. The Beatles went back and recorded Abbey Road, released the shelved Let It Be album, and faded into obscurity or something.

For many, the Rooftop Concert was their last glimpse, even if many couldn't actually see them.

Bell Let's Talk

It's January 29, 2020.

It's also Bell Let's Talk Day. It was held on Jan 30 last year, and I decided to open up and write something important. With that in mind, I'd like to run that again.

Please know there is nothing wrong with admitting you need help, whether it's depression or anything else. There are people who care, love you, and will talk to you. Please. Now, more than ever.

Love each other. Watch out for each other. Please. Before it's too late.

This is what I wrote just about a year ago today:

*****
Today is Bell Let's Talk Day.

Created by Bell Canada, the telecom company pledges to donate $.05 to what they call "mental health initiatives” for each social media interaction that uses #BellLetsTalk.

While the money goes to Canadian mental health initiatives, it helps keep an important conversation moving forward worldwide.

It needs to be said again: depression is real. Mental health is a real problem.

There is no shame in discussing it.

I'm not ashamed to say that I've battled dark moments.

There are many reasons for this.

Money. Loss of time with my son. Fearing that I've wasted my life. Worrying about my friends and family.

Not enough work. Lost work.

Lack of health insurance, thus worrying about my health.

When the clouds are dark, it all becomes magnified. Bad.

In those bad moments, I become the worst broadcaster ever. I become the worst father. I become a profound failure.

The loneliness creeps in. The despair becomes tangible.

This is reality. I need help.

You might need help also.

Seriously -- it's OK.

I'm here. I'll listen. I'll help however I can.

Let's talk.

There Are Still Journalists Who Do It Right

Except...as of this writing...he's not. (WFSB)

I feel like I'm in a daily fight to defend, support, and promote journalism, and I won't back down from it.

But dammit, we've dropped the ball over the past few days.

I told you about the screw ups of the reporting of Kobe, his daughter, and the seven others who died in the helicopter crash on Sunday.

Now I'm following a disaster of journalism in Connecticut. Fotis Dulos -- accused of killing his estranged wife -- reportedly tried to kill himself a few hours ago. That does not seem to be in doubt.

I saw the story break and I checked my sources. The Hartford Courant was on top of it and, just after Noon, reported that Dulos was dead. Several sources -- ones that I trust -- backed that up.

I teach the Rule of Three -- three verified sources.

I watched WFSB-TV from Hartford (Rocky Hill, to be exact) as they tried to stumble and carry along the breaking news. Look, I get that. I've done breaking news. You're stretching, straining, and struggling for things to say. You find all of the "ums," "uhs," and "you knows" to get through it. You repeat yourself.

This is what I lovingly call "HAN Radio Stormcast."

Then, in a flash, I watched as WFSB (channel 3) came to a halt. The anchor reached for her IFB -- that earphone worn by TV people.

I could almost sense her blushing in agony of embarrassment.

Something was amiss. Dulos' attorney, Norm Pattis, put out a statement that Dulos still had a pulse.

It was a journalistic miracle! Praise Edward R. Murrow!

Except Murrow would be horrified.

We. Had. It. Wrong.

And with my retweeting and sharing via social media, I felt complicit in passing along errant information.

It's not about me. I realize that. But I feel responsible to be someone you can all trust.

We're letting you down, and it becomes low-hanging fruit for those embittered by this business, or angry at us because we don't talk about Trump enough or whatever to attack and say journalism is "dead."

It ain't dead. There are plenty of us -- I know them -- who won't let it die. They honor this business every day and are an inspiration to me. They're not hung up in the narcissism of who they know in the business as they make the story about themselves.

There are plenty of us who scour, source, double-check and triple-check stories. There are plenty of us who are unbiased in what we do.

But, we screwed this one up.

As I write, Fotis Dulos is in the hospital and efforts are ongoing to save his life. Whether or not his life matters is for another time, when I'm not wearing a journalism hat.

We need to do better and I'll be damned after today if I know how to do that.

Frank Reynolds was an ABC News anchor. Watch him meltdown on the air as information was found to be wrong during the Reagan assassination. I saw this live and, to this day, I'll never forget his reaction as news about press secretary James Brady and Reagan came forward:

"Let's get it nailed down ... somebody ... let's find out! Let's get it straight so we can report this thing accurately!"

I can't say it any better than that.

The Overreactions

Emotions are raw tonight.

A day after Kobe Bryant, his daughter, and seven other people died in a helicopter crash, there has been a collection of suggestions on how to honor him.

Major League Baseball retired Jackie Robinson's number 42 across the league in 1997.

The National Hockey League retired Wayne Gretzky's number 99 in 2000.

Since then there have been calls for baseball to add Roberto Clemente's number 21 and, once in a rare while, Babe Ruth's number 3.

Beginning last night, basketball fans have recommended hanging up Kobe's two uniform numbers (8 and 24) league-wide.

Some have suggested making August 24th (8/24...get it?) Kobe Bryant Day.

Still more have said the the NBA logo -- modeled after the great Jerry West -- should be changed to be a silhouette of Kobe.

To that end, a petition exists that has over 280,000 signatures as of Monday night.

Look, I get it. Everyone handles grief in their own way. Far be it for me to say how anyone should grieve.

But this is over the top.  Kobe died yesterday. Let's stop the fast break.

In due time, there will be appropriate, rational ways to honor Mamba, his daughter, and those who died.

A Kobe statue certainly makes sense at Staples Center.

A Kobe Bryant Award is also logical.

But I think we need to calm down a bit.

The Lakers postponed their game tomorrow night. I actually would have been OK with the NBA taking last night off, but I kind of feel like it would have been good for fans in Los Angeles to be back together.

This isn't something I feel strongly about that I want to have a debate but it does bring me back to Aug 3, 1979 when the Yankees hosted the Orioles.

We all needed it. Over 51,000 fans attended and cheered.

For nearly 10 minutes.

The cheering roared through the grand ballpark as the Yankees openly wept on the field and the spot behind home plate remained empty.

The roar of the crowd was like a wave. It kept going, grew stronger, began to subside just a touch, then exploded again.

I watched on TV, and stood in silence. Even at 10, it was overwhelming.

It was cathartic.


The Lakers can have that moment when they're ready, I suppose.

But I don't think tomorrow night would have been a bad thing.

*****
I sat down last night and started a recorded edition of Doubleheader that I finished up this morning. I talked about Kobe, Eli Manning, and Derek Jeter, among other things.

I wanted it to air today at 4pm, as I would be unable to host a live show. I'm still running to and from Poughkeepsie and balancing things.

The show did not air due to lack of time to put it in our automation system. So I resurrected Tales From the Booth -- the Doubleheader edition. Please listen.

Kobe

I'm sitting three feet away from where I was sitting on Aug 2, 1979.

I was on the floor, watching TV, when I heard about the death of Thurman Munson.

Today, I'm sitting on a couch, and the TV was off but my phone was on.

And, today, Kobe Bryant is dead, along with his 13-year-old daughter in a helicopter crash in California.

Kobe was otherworldly as a basketball player. I'm not quite sure I need to even go into his legacy.

Yes, I realize there was also a rape allegation and, if we're going to be fair, then we have to slot that into the story somewhere. Best teammate? No. But, let's not. Not here. At least not today.

Sure, with full disclosure, I was never the biggest Kobe fan, but my God you HAD to respect that he was a marvelous talent with incredible confidence. He had a special DNA that only certain greats do.

And, today he and his daughter -- along with what is being reported as seven other people -- are gone.

Reported.

The story broke around 2:45. TMZ -- heaven forbid! -- was first. ABC's Los Angeles affiliate was also early to the story.

Let's be honest. Find me a story that TMZ was wrong about. All of us "news snobs" need to accept that. They're legit. And they were right.

My first thought was that ESPN would be all over it. Nope. They were airing the Pro Bowl. At the same time, ABC was ALSO airing the Pro Bowl, as a simulcast.

Let me say that again. They were airing the Pro Bowl, generally regarded as the least respected of the all-star game in the major sports. A game that the NFL would have been smart to come out and tell ESPN/ABC to adjust their broadcast of somehow.

But, back to the reporting.

Look, I'm all about confirmation and getting three sources before breaking a story. But TMZ had it. So did ABC's LA-based station.

Still, the Pro Bowl started -- on ESPN and ABC -- and nothing. Finally, at 3:02 p.m., Joe Tessitore acknowledged it (only after Adrian Wojnarowski confirmed and tweeted it) on the broadcast.

ABC/ESPN eventually did a special report but still went back to the Pro Bowl on both channels.

OK, again, I get it. Sponsors, deal with the NFL, blah blah blah. Doesn't breaking news supersede this?

And -- again it was on TWO channels -- couldn't you dump one and go to news while leaving the Pro Bowl (for the love of God, really?) on the other?

I didn't really want CNN (and they also took their sweet time to acknowledge it). I wanted ESPN. Don't tell me about ESPN News or ESPN 8 (the Ocho) or whatever. For one thing, I don't have ESPN News.

So I stuck with CNN and never changed back.

Ponderous, man.

But, there's more. Again, I get it. Confirm your sources -- remember, I teach this stuff (and will do so on Tuesday). But, soon, there were conflicting reports that Bryant's daughters were on the helicopter. That story was then tweeted all over before people walked it back. Then it was said no other family member was on the plane.

As we know now -- I'm writing after 8 p.m. Eastern -- his 13-year-old daughter was on the helicopter.

We preach: be right, not first. We failed in that regard from the way it all went down on Twitter.

Personally, I blame places like -- no, I won't say it but I bet you know who I'm talking about -- news outlets that irresponsibly want things reported, facts be damned. Those clicks are so important. I raged against it then and I still do.

"Get the widow on the set. We need dirty laundry," sang Don Henley.

Then again, I nearly got fired once for opining on Twitter about breaking news coverage so nothing should surprise me.

This is, frankly, one of the most important sports stories in recent memory. It, of course, transcends sports. But it's Thurman. It's Roberto Clemente. I suppose it would have been what Lou Gehrig was like if "The Iron Horse" had announced his illness publicly. It's what Magic Johnson saying he was HIV positive was like.

This story is huge, and will roll into tonight, especially given that the Grammy's are tonight. Oh, and coincidentally, they're being held at Staples Center, where Bryant played from 1999 until the end of his career.

The story goes beyond sports as I said. My son knows little about basketball. He's probably heard of LeBron James and Michael Jordan.

And Kobe Bryant.

Like literally everyone, he has shot balled-up napkins into the garbage as if it were a basketball. Like many, he uttered "Kobe" every time, even before he knew who Kobe Bryant was. Of course, I quizzed him.

But today, I texted him. He was stunned.

As we all are.

Mamba out.

Rainy Saturday

A quiet hockey rink at Brunswick

I had some time in the car today, and I decided to turn the radio dial.

The AM dial is so fun at night. It's amazing the far off places you can hear. I realize that's not so exciting in the internet/satellite radio era, but it's still fun to me.

I stumbled onto a minor league hockey game and decided to listen for a stretch. Now, what have I told you about not listening to other broadcasters? It's dangerous, man. Just dangerous.

And, most of all, it's ponderous.

This was no different. There were limited details given, and there were long stretches of silence as the game went along. I rarely heard the score, and it took some time before I even figured out what game I was listening to.

As I said, the game was somewhere else (the radio station was from Canada). That's about all I'm going to give.

It's possible that the play-by-play person was having a bad night, so I'll be kind.

But ugh.

I had a game of my own today and it was fun.

While the hockey rink at Brunswick was dark (the Bruins played Hill* in Pottstown, PA) so it was a basketball day for me. I also called the Bruins in hoops on Friday.

* I called Brunswick/Hill when they played in Pottstown two years ago from the Local Live Stamford studio. While I always want to be on-site, it was still pretty cool to try it that way. Plus, I had formed a little something with Hill dating back to my days on HAN when I called Hill/Wick as well. All for another time, I guess.

Brunswick would be without some big firepower, so the odds seemed long against a talented team from Salisbury.

"We go to battle with what we have," Bruins coach Steve Juricek said to me and, as you can probably guess, his team did just fine.

Down fifteen late in the first half, Brunswick went on a 12-2 run to trail by five at the break. The lead went back to 11 with 9:45 to go. Then the began chipping away. Dan Arnold tied the game at 54 with just over three to play.

But Logan Galletta -- a freshman -- hit a three-pointer to give Wick their first lead with 75 seconds remaining. The Bruins held on from there for a 59-58 win.

It was exhilarating. The teams left, the benches were being broken down, and I sat against a wall, just finishing up the upload of the audio portion of the call. But, more than that, I was soaking in a good game.

You see, the best games leave you worn out. I used to get in trouble for hanging out with friends after games, not to gossip or grumble, but to find the energy to drive. Today felt like that.

I was missing AJ and Shawn to commiserate with.

Coach Juricek stopped over to say goodbye. The best coaches love to talk the game.

They also have a word of encouragement for what you do.

After he left, I summoned the energy to drive to Poughkeepsie.

Another night in the books.

** Last thing: My mom, Sean, and I were supposed to be in Virginia today. We were looking forward to celebrating Lilah's (daughter on Jon and Rebecca and sister of Rose) bat mitzvah today. We were all pretty excited, but it was no to be. As I alluded to last night, mom had a health hiccup and it was best that we stayed in New York. So I picked up the two basketball games to get some work (I lost a hockey game on Monday). It was really important to see all of them, as Jon and I keep reminding ourselves that life is too short and we haven't seen them in so long. We were really bummed to not go to Virginia but we'll hope to do it again in the future (well, the visit, but I'm pretty sure the bat mitzvah was a one-time affair).

Still Wiped Out

He's tired also.

I feel weak admitting it.

I felt selfish in what I wrote last night.

Yet, here we are again.

I could feel my energy lagging during my call of tonight's basketball game at Brunswick.

I gave it my all. I'm sure if I were to ask I'd be told I sounded fine.

But I -- number one critic -- felt otherwise.

So I came home, texted all appropriate parties about events of the day and made myself some dinner.

Now, it's after eleven and I'm just fried.

My legs are tired. My soul is tired. And I just heard something crash.

Super.

So this is all I've got for you tonight until my energy level returns.

I'd like to be like Chico in the picture about. Utterly passed out.

And I will be soon.

I'm Wiped Out

Not an actual picture of me

Remember when I wrote on Monday about taking the night off?

That was night one of a crazy week.

I've told some of you what is going on.

So, let's see...missed hockey game, called a hockey game, my great niece is getting ready to have a baby, I recorded two podcasts for Hunt Scanlon, got Sean to a driving lesson and visited two hospitals with my mom.

From the sports world (besides the game broadcasts) there has been the whole Derek Jeter thing (now you know why I wasn't much in the mood for the haters, trolls, and fools), Eli Manning retiring,the Mets hiring the new manager and whatever else went on.

Is that everything? I feel like I've missed something.

Oh yeah. I was supposed to leave for Virginia tomorrow. But, such is life.

Instead I'll call basketball both tomorrow and Saturday.

So, anyway, that's life.

Oh, my mom, you say?

It's her story to tell. It's her health.

But I'll tell you this: I wrote that post Monday night at Putnam Hospital Center.

So, once again, tomorrow's another day.

From a Common Sense Perspective

So there's been much talk about Derek Jeter missing on a unanimous vote by one.

That's not really what this post is about, but we'll use Jeter as the baseline.

That one voter has been revered and reviled in the past 24 hours.

Do I think the person did it for notoriety? No, not really. Generally speaking, that person probably had no idea they were the only one to not vote for Jeter.

Do I think there should be a witch hunt over it? No, but I would be curious to get an explanation. It won't assuage those outraged (ranging from Yankees Universe to Patrick Mahomes and others) but it would be interesting nevertheless.

But here's what I want to make clear: Telling me Jeter (or anyone) can't or shouldn't be unanimous because Aaron, Mays, Ruth, etc wasn't.

It. Is. A False Equivalency.

Here's the deal.

The writers receive a ballot. They are instructed to pick up to ten players. They can send back a blank ballot. They can not send a ballot at all (though that doesn't impact the percentage of votes).

Then the writers look at each player and they answer one -- ONE -- simple question.

Really. It's quite simple.

Are you ready for it?

Can you handle it?

Are you sure?

OK...

Is that player a Hall of Famer?

That's. It.

No more. No less.

Judge the individual player. Is Derek Jeter a Hall of Famer? Yes or no. Is Larry Walker a Hall of Famer? Roger Clemens? Barry Bonds?

Base your answer on whatever metrics you choose. I generally go initially with gut feeling and eye test before I dig into numbers when discussing players. Naturally I don't have a vote because I don't belong to the Baseball Writers' Association of America.

And so, let's have a look at a ballot, shall we?

This is Randy Miller's ballot from NJ.com. Read the directions. Pretty straight forward, no? Are the players on that ballot Hall of Famers? If yes, in the estimation of the voter, check the box. Pick up to ten.

Nowhere there does it say to compare Bobby Abreu, for instance, to Reggie Jackson.

Nor does it say that you can't vote for Derek Jeter because 11 people didn't vote for Babe Ruth.

In 1936.

Can you begin to see how silly that logic is? It's not a apt comparison.

Eleven people didn't vote for Ruth. Same goes for Honus Wagner. Four didn't vote for Ty Cobb. But, again, this was in 1936. The reason I've heard behind Ruth, for instance, was that some writers thought it was too soon for his inclusion. Ruth had only retired in 1935, which of course was before the creation of the five-year waiting period.

Look, I can't explain why nine writers didn't vote for Hank Aaron in 1982 or 23 passed on Willie Mays in 1979. Three didn't vote for Junior Griffey in 2016.

There were notions that there couldn't be a unanimous Hall of Famer but that finally went out the window with Mariano Rivera in 2019.

There's still the notion of a first ballot Hall of Famer, which is a supposed to be a badge of honor. It means little thought was necessary on that player, but can also be imperfect (see: Puckett, Kirby)

There, honestly, could have been anything ranging from racism to the player in question slighted the writer somewhere along the line. Given opinions are involved, the process is hardly perfect.

Twenty writers didn't vote for Ted Williams in 1966. Why? Ted had a prickly relationship with writers. They're supposed to overlook that, but opinions and biases still happen.

There is the character clause which many writers have hidden behind for one dumb reason or another.

But how a ballot was voted on in any previous year (or player) has no bearing on how this year played out.

THIS is the ballot for 2020.

Next year, voters will judge only the players on the 2021 ballot.

So to tell me Derek Jeter or Ken Griffey Jr or Sandy Koufax or Johnny Bench or Tom Seaver can't be unanimous because Babe Ruth or Willie Mays or Christy Mathewson or Ted Williams or Stan Musial weren't? Don't you see where it's sort of illogical?

Or is it just a sheer matter of basic jealousy?

Or is it you're a hater of the player/team?

This post isn't about whether or not Jeter is unanimous. I lost no sleep over that fact.  As a reminder, he's in the Hall of Fame today, so the point is irrelevant.

In reality, it's not really about Jeter at all. We could be talking about any player.

It's meant to attack the bogus logic I've seen flying around since around 6:15 last night.

The hot takes and hatred have just been wonderful. Thanks for all of it.

YEAH, JEETS!

Along with "27 Rings," "Yeah, Jeets!" might be our most obnoxious quote. Yankees fans -- like any successful sports franchise -- certainly have that tendency.

Like a party trick, it makes haters flip out. Fun for the whole family!

And, oh my, are they flipping out tonight as Derek Jeter enters Cooper2town.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

You see, here's the thing. The one thing -- the ONLY thing -- that the Derek Jeter haters (read: Mets fans, Red Sox fans, and, well, haters in general) can hold on to is that he wasn't unanimously elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

He missed out by one vote. Let the games begin!

Well, OK, yes, there's the thing of now breaking him down. You know: "He's not a Hall of Famer." Then there are the comparisons and the "overrated" comments and, my personal favorite, the "crappy defense" argument.

But, make no mistake: he's going to Cooperstown. He's the featured attraction this summer. Get ready for a "YUGE" crowd this summer, with a lot of pinstripes to be seen.

(And by the way, big congrats to Lary Walker. Who doesn't like Larry Walker, eh?)

Truth: Derek Sanderson Jeter was never my favorite Yankees player. It was always Paul O'Neill or someone else.

But, he was there. Mr. Clutch. Mr. November. Mr. Whatever-the-hell-he-wanted-to-be.

He was that good. We knew it.

I was there for a ton of it. My son -- noted as not a big sports fan -- jumped in my arms when he got the hit that put him as tops in the history of the New York Yankees. We were both there on a rainy Friday night to watch it.

He and I watched Jeter hit DJ3K (aka, his 3,000th hit) from our living room a few years later. Again, he jumped in my arms. Special. Father. Son.

Hate Jeter all you want. I'll hold onto those moments.

In need of a big hit on Mickey Mantle Day when he was a rookie? Bang. Walk off hit.

Game 6, 1996? Bang. Base hit off Greg Maddox, who spurned the Bronx for the burning of Atlanta.

The Mets climbing back into the 2000 World Series? Ha, I say. First pitch. Game four. Bobby Jones. One-nothing, New York Yankees. Series basically over.

Go into the stands against the A's in '01 or the Red Sox in '04? Sure.

He's also Mr. November, of course.

The Flip Play.

The last at-bat in the Bronx, followed by the last AB in Boston.

Every fist pump. Ever win.

Yankees win. You know the rest.

I get it. You think he's overrated. Because how could a guy by THIS good?

He was never the best...doesn't deserve to be unanimous because Ruth, Aaron, Mantle, Mays, Musial, Junior, Cobb or Piazza weren't. It's flawed logic, but you do you, I suppose.

He was that good, and he would have been anywhere. But, in New York, he found the right combination. The bright lights. The big city.

Bernie and Jorge and Coney and Paulie and Mr. Torre and Zim and Andy and Mo and Tino and SupercalifragilisticexpialiBrosius all played parts in those four rings from 1996-2000.

But, it could have been Shelly Duncan or Shane Spencer or Aaron Small. It didn't matter.

Five rings overall. Endless playoff appearances.

And, arguably, the greatest shortstop ever. Yes, I said arguably.

I got to be around him once, in the Yankees locker room following a win against the Blue Jays in a makeup game in 2003.

It was surreal. He said everything and nothing. He was respectful and in control. It was masterful.

No athlete I've covered has impressed me more.

Yeah, I know. "Rob's biased." "Man crush." Whatever. You'd be impressively wrong with that take.

He's not on the Yankees' Mount Rushmore. Those spots sit clearly with Mssrs. Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, and Mantle. Yogi is probably next.

But 3,465 hits are hard to ignore.

He has hurt his image in Miami, no doubt. He's following in Michael Jordan's footsteps as an executive. But he's Derek-freaking-Jeter, and I have no reason to doubt him.

No athlete has kept himself more squeaky clean in the limelight, despite involving himself with Mariah Carey (I told you so at the time).

So, no. Unanimous happened last year with Mo. Game over with the closer. As it should be.

I didn't need to see 100% next to DJ's name tonight.

He's in.

Yeah, Jeets.

Just Taking Tonight Off

" Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!"

I'm hoping you'll cut me a break tonight.

Today was...um...a day.

I produced a new podcast for Hunt Scanlon, talking to someone from London this morning.

But the day had started falling apart before that.

I got to hang out with Sean, and that's always a good thing.

But the rest of today? No.

We keep it real around these parts, and we always have.


The options were to do this or not write a post at all, so here we are.

All is fine. Or as fine as it can be.

See you tomorrow.

Duh

"Mr. Official, let me ask you something. How can six of you miss a play like that, huh?"

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend about current music. I mentioned Billie Eilish, the 18-year-old pop sensation.

He looked at me and shrugged. He'd never heard of her.

We'll return to this.

Quite a Sunday.

If you're in Kansas City, you're euphoric over the Chiefs making the Super Bowl for the first time since 1970. As I type, San Francisco is raising their collective wine glasses and cheese plates (except for the gang at the 2am Club in Mill Valley. Those are beer swillers there!).

And the Chiefs have a Mahopac High Grad on their staff. Dave Toub graduated six years before me and is the assistant head coach and special teams coordinator. So, that's cool.

Anyway, it looks like it's Chiefs and Niners in two weeks when they slot in a football game between awful concerts.*

* John Nash: AVERT YOUR EYES! There will be music criticism within this post!

Anywho, prepare yourself for two weeks of hearing stories of Joe Montana (must not opine...must not opine...), Jerry Rice, Dwight Clark (RIP), and Steve Young (Greenwich High, of course) as well as Hank Stram, Len Dawson, Willie Lanier, and Buck Buchanan.

And that's just the historical side of it.

I just saw FOX is having an extended pregame show, which isn't unusual. What's also not unusual is the collection of acts that I'll spend no time watching. The only name I remember seeing is Pitbull and I'm wondering, as I have for roughly ten years, why is that guy relevant, let alone popular?

Mr. 305/Mr. Worldwide is basically a musical cartoon character in the theme of Right Said Fred.

I'd need massive amounts of Fireball to hear him warble about Fireball.

Of course, the halftime show is pleasing because I'll barely pay attention to it. Pass me some wings!

I mean...Shakira? Jennifer Lopez?

Was Nelly Furtado not available? Kylie Minogue (who was once on Doctor Who and was quite good)? Maybe The Cover Girls, Taylor Dayne, The Pussycat Dolls, and Exposé can take part!

I know. The days of McCartney, etc. are over as halftime shows, and maybe they should be. At least we've mostly forgotten the disaster that was Imagine Dragons at the National Championship last year. In fact, it was so bad, the game didn't have a pop act play halftime this year.

If only the NFL would do the same.

I've also been seeing commercials for the upcoming Grammy's broadcast. As a result, I can't get one of Billie Eilish's (yes, back to her) big hits out of my mind because the goth synth pop beat is featured in the promo.

I think she wrote it about me. You know: "Bad Guy."

Doo doo do do do do do...

Also, with all due respect to Ms. Eilish (I promise, there is no knocking or mocking here), I have just one line from "Bad Guy" in my brain. It's the title of the post.

"Duh."

Doo doo do do do do do...

In terms of the Grammy's (my running Twitter commentary has become a thing of legend to literally two people...maybe), the rest of the lineup they're promising is about as exciting as...well, it's not exciting.

Before you (and John) begin sharpening your pitchforks, let me tell you that the Grammy's can serve as an opportunity to pick up something...anything.

But, mostly, it's a bit of a collection of moments meant to outrage and be seen.

Duh.

The Naysayer

I'm a realist. I'm honest and have opinions.

Trust me, those get me in trouble on a daily basis -- both personally and professionally.

And it's amazing how much I've actually backed off into a place where it's bordering on ambivalence.

But I'm quickly getting off-topic here, so let me explain.

Earlier this week, iHeart Radio laid off a lot of talented broadcasters as they "restructure" or whatever they want to call it. The layoffs went from coast to coast and around many markets of varying sizes.

iHeart is continuing the trend of corporate radio losing its local flavor. It's sad how few places have a presence close to their city of license and further how few have any presence 24 hours a day. It feels like iHeart and others are trying to homogenize it.

Many of us in the business expressed our sadness over what happened this week and wished those out of work well. One site I frequent posted a request on Facebook for any advice to be given to those now looking for work.

"Get out while u can. lol," came one smart ass response.

I gripped the computer and tried to not launch it across the room. Instead, fellow understanding broadcasters (and "VOICES" of high school sports in Ohio) Nate Stidham and Mike Hirn caught my rage.

They weren't pleased, either.

I replied to the post with encouragement, as did Mike. Really. What more can we do right now? The very point is to not get out (lol) but to, more importantly, not let the bastards get you down (lol).

"Don't let this deter you or run you out of the business," I wrote.

Even if the poster was kidding (lol) it wasn't the right time for it. Don't kick a soul when they're down.

But I see this a lot. I see it in the play-by-play group. In the public address announcer group. In the AM Radio group and other places.

It's the person who insists on saying that radio is dead or to get out of the industry that you're in or whatever. It's that the sky is falling (and, sure, maybe it is).

Look, I'm all for blunt honesty and realism (back to that again) but, sometimes, it's best to just simply shut your microphone hole.

You know, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all," as spoken by noted philosopher Thumper.

Yes, we get it. Radio is in flux at the moment. This iHeart news rattled the industry a bit. I'm dealing with questions all the time on the future of WGCH (which is, you know, a RADIO station...on AM RADIO).

Yes, I further understand that play-by-play is an often low-paying gig. I explain that to my students. Why do you think I beg for EVERY game that I can possibly get? Why do you think I go nuts over the games that I lose out on?

So don't tell me about low-pay and so on.

But, and yes, this is me saying this, sometimes the honesty can be taken too far, especially in an arena like social media. If your goal is to look like a cynic or, worse, a "tough guy," then well done ol' chap! A bottle of Aqua Velva for you!

Otherwise, maybe just say nothing.