What Do I Know?

There are actually wrestling references in here. I can smell what The Rock is cooking!

I'm nobody.

I'm not going to get asked to do a InstaZoomaBook thing to tell my stories because, well, I'm (again) a nobody. I'm not going to be asked to be on American's Next Broadcaster That Nobody Will Remember or whatever

I know that. But I've seen a thing or a thousand over 30 years in broadcasting and I can build a damn good announcer. I have advice and stories worth listening to.

(And we'll come back to that, but first allow me to bury the lede)

Every now and then I'll get asked why I'm not "further along." Trust me, it's a lovely thought but I'm (mostly) OK because, to quote Sinatra, "I did it my way."

I didn't have the encouragement of being financially stable. It just wasn't a reality. My father was a very hardworking blue collar soul. We were always comfortable but careful. There were very few frivolities and we learned the value of a dollar.

So when it came time for college I wasn't encouraged to go to Syracuse or Fordham or any well-known broadcasting school. I felt that Westchester Community College would suit me.

I went to the Connecticut School of Broadcasting as well as a sportscasting camp at Syracuse but, if I'm being honest, I think most in my world thought I was crazy to do so.

This isn't like today. I'll leave it at that.

There's a much longer story in there of how I got where I am. In the long run, I chose family and, eventually, raising a son. Thus I never wound up in a minor league town. I stayed in the Hudson Valley and, specifically, in Mahopac/Carmel. I've had two zip codes and one county.

So, for whatever talent I have and why I didn't go "farther" I'm a product of decisions and a lot of hard work. None of it was handed to me, even to this day where I feel a certain level of disrespect from places that I should never feel that.

Anyway. We now return you to Rob's Wasted Advice, Driven By Jeep.

I want to talk about something I saw without calling anyone out. Believe me, some days I want to explode. I want to say to (insert name here),"You are a product of privilege and you lack the first f****** clue of how good you've got it so stop acting like an obnoxious ass since everyone is talking about you behind your back. TRY being humble."

But no. They'll learn.

They're reading it now and saying, "Wow, whoever it is, I hope they wake up" without realizing it's about THEM.

To that same end is talking about politics, etc on our big ol' fancy world wide social interwebs.

Look, even I dabbled in discussing Mr. 45 last week and delivered a bit of criticism. I actually expected my friends in the left-handed batters box to break into the conga line in "Baseball Bugs."

But in our profession, politics can be a dangerous leap to take. That's part of why there are so many vanilla broadcasters today.

You never -- literally, ever -- know who is reading, watching, listening. Hiring managers will see you bashing away on your Twitter account about the president and get scared away.

Given that you, sort of, er, beg everyone to look at your stuff, it's a dangerous paradigm.

(I'd prefer "suck up" to "beg" but we're talking semantics at this point)

This could all be the same person I'm talking about.

Or not.

Or it could be an amalgam of characters. Happens in movies all the time.

Take it from your old Uncle Robbie: I make mistakes but I've walked these lines for years.

Sometimes that means not talking at all. Other times it means you leayeth the smack down.

Or is it "smacketh?" The interwebs didn't have a consensus.

(Bygod, did I just say that? What is wrong with me?)

And, still other times, as much as I hate it, you vague tweet/write/book. You invent characters. You get it out of your system without saying it.

You're begging for attention.

Sometimes that can bring the wrong attention.

Buyer beware.

I Miss Things

Love is the Fort McHenry Tunnel in Baltimore at 7 a.m. (8/20/2019)

I don't mean to be tone-deaf.

Yes, we're in a pandemic.

We're still *checks CNN* protesting in the streets.

So, I guess I run the risk of being told I'm "privileged" when I say I miss some stuff.

I miss the solitude of setting up and breaking down a broadcast.

I miss sitting in an empty facility, maybe alone in my thoughts or just talking to someone.

I miss a 2-2 curveball with runners at the corners and two out (deuces wild, of course).

I miss sitting in "the catbird seat" (Google it) and relaying every last bit of it.

I miss watching Greenwich football play while talking about something nonsensical with Chris Erway.

I miss the New Jersey Turnpike at five in the morning while roaring south towards Delaware.

Next stop? North Carolina.

I miss basically everywhere.

I miss the open road.

I miss road food (one All-Star Special, please).

I miss the Hartong Rink with the buzz of students.

I miss the gym. Greenwich, Trumbull, Brunswick. Any gym. Last possession. Two-point game.

I miss Yankee Stadium. Yes, the much-maligned "new" one. I miss the old one in perpetuity.

I miss having a cold beverage with my friends. Or a hot beverage.

To quote Red in The Shawshank Redemption: "I guess I just miss my friend(s)."

I miss walking through (insert store here) for heck of it.

I miss sitting in (insert dining establishment).

I miss the idea of believing I'll have a life and a future.

Sadly, I've given up.

I should be 10 days away from going to Aberdeen, MD for the beginning of a great journey, 20 years in the making.

That will wait.

Be patient, I know.

There will be no further thought on whether we should reopen or not, because we're not completely open and there's nothing I can do about it.

Besides, I'm a little tapped out with arguing.

I'm babbling. That's just how I'm feeling tonight.

Tomorrow will be better.

I'm sure.

It's a Beautiful Day

Today: Not as warm as yesterday. Sunshine will mix with some clouds. The high will be 73 degrees. Humidity will be low (Source: AccuWeather)

As it has been with all of you I'm sure, the tension, anger, and frustration has reached its boiling point.

I've generally shut down. I'm tired of only one opinion being welcomed at the table.

I've moved onto ignoring.

And I'm watching a country that is marching in the streets daily with, dare I say, relaxed social distancing protocols. So if "the numbers" on COVID-19 go back up, that will be cool, right?

See, I don't view COVID as a hoax. I know it was and is very real.

But the term "flatten the curve" seems so ... hmmm ... April?

Enough.

Enough of all of it.

I'm going out today.

A total shut down? No, not at all. Given my life involves staying on top of things, I'll glance towards the big world but I'll mostly be checked out.

This doesn't mean I don't care about Black Lives Matter or George Floyd or anything else. It just means that two solid weeks of unrest, along with 13 weeks of Pandemic Paradise, has worn me down.

And, now, Elmer Fudd is trending. I'm completely serious.

Elmer Fudd. Check Twitter. And, just be prepared.

It's so pleasant out. Go hug ... oops ... elbow bump someone.

Be kind.

Peace out, y'all.

Remembering D-Day

I had a different opening written that somehow got deleted.

Doesn't matter.

Simply put, I'm tapped out and wish to pause from literally everything tonight.

I mean no disrespect with that statement.

Instead I'm here to simply honor those who fought in Operation Overloard, more commonly known as D-Day.

There were over 10,000 Allied casualties and 4,414 deaths.

I apologize if it's somehow insensitive or incorrect to thank them for their sacrifice but those are the words I'm choosing.

I also wish to acknowledge those journalists who were present -- whether with the troops or helping the deliver the news back at home. I greatly admire all of them, including my electronic brethren.

Thank you, all.

For more on the radio coverage of D-Day, visit this page from the Miller Center at UVA.

The Miller Center at UVA · NBC Radio announces the invasion of France 6 June 1944

A Cat Picture (Or Two)

Hang in there, Chico!

Once again, I've been reminded that we can't have conversations. We're incapable.

Be it mascot name changes, monuments in my beloved Richmond, VA or obviously even far more-pressing concerns (and less-pressing as well), we're incapable of talking.

Debates aren't possible without name-calling and ad hominem attacks.

Drew Brees says something ill-timed? He's a racist.

Grant Napear (play-by-play voice of the Sacramento Kings)? The same.

You get mocked and criticized for humor, even if laughter is the best medicine for the soul, in my opinion.

Oh, right. My opinion doesn't matter.

Tony Savino asked me this morning in our Friday chat on WGCH about conducting a talk show through this time. I told him that every word has made me nervous.

Posting about the likelihood of changing the name of the mascot at Western Connecticut State University (my alma mater) made me nervous, and rightfully so. They were the Colonials and they won't be much longer. It's, essentially, been determined to be a barbaric term.

I haven't posted anything about Richmond preparing to take down their Civil War monuments. Not because I support the monuments or what they stand for (come on, folks, I hope you know me by now).

I hate being nervous to speak on my show or here on this stupid blog or anywhere else.

To be quite clear: NOBODY SHOULD BE AFRAID TO TALK.

Instead, I just retreat and say nothing.

Virtue signaling wins.

And thus I'll post a cat picture and call it a day.

And won't dare to laugh about it.

No Enchantment Under the Sea

Maybe Sean can get a DeLorean and go back in time

Tonight would have been Sean's senior prom.

I wasn't big on attending dances in school and I'm pretty sure he wasn't either.

It was a different story when it came to the prom. I went to both of mine and two others as well.

You needed a prom date? Sure, I'd go!

I wasn't sure if Sean would go to his but suggested he and his friends go stag and have a blast. I gather others told him the same.

He was convinced.

Now, thanks to COVID-19, he gets nothing.

It's a first world problem and I understand that.

Still, I feel bad for him, even if he's low-key about it.

He won't get that chance to gather with his class and dance to whatever they play.

He won't have the opportunity to mock those classmates who think they're so special. My God but that can be priceless.

There's the one who thinks they're too cool or too popular or too ... whatever.

It's rare to be able to dress in such a way and enjoy it.

It's a rite of passage.

The rubber chicken. The limos (if you get one -- I never had one). The pictures!

And it's not happening.

As it is, it looks like he'll have a two-part graduation that includes a drive-through parade and an appointed time to receive his diploma. Those details are still coming together.

So, while he's sitting upstairs, talking online to friends and dutifully doing his e-learning during the day, it's his dad that feels what he is losing.

Because I know what it was like for me and I wanted him to appreciate that.

He'll be a better man for these experiences.

Mighty Casey

The Disney version Casey (D23.com)

Casey at the Bat was born today.

We don't know who Casey really was. We never learned his last name or what his WAR was.

No clue about his OPS.

Casey -- Mighty Casey -- or, should we say Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888 was first published on this day The Daily Examiner of San Francisco.

Written by Earnest L. Thayer, it tells the story of the Mudville Nine, trailing an unnamed team 4-2 as they entered the bottom of the ninth inning.

Mudville is a scrappy team with a superstar -- the Mighty Casey himself. But he's do up fifth in the ninth (though it's said to be the "last inning" we'll figure it's the ninth).

Indeed, Cooney and Barrows produce outs while weaker hitters Flynn and Blake, each expected to make the last out of the game, come up with hits. Flynn singles and Blake doubles.

Now it's up to Casey, in front of a crowd numbering 5,000.

Talented and cocky, Casey lets the first two go by (somewhat reminiscent of Babe Ruth and his "called shot" in 1932). But, where Ruth succeeded, Casey did not.

He struck out. Game over.

No word on if the broadcaster called it "gargantuan" or if his swing produced a greater wind than the bearded girl down at the nickelodeon waiting to join Mr. Barnum's circus or whatever. Oh, wait. Baseball broadcasting was still roughly 35 years away. I'm digressing wildly.

The poem isn't exactly the work of Dickinson or Cummings (or cummings) or Frost or Whitman.

It's not even Homer (given there is no...homer). Yeah, that's a bad joke.

But it's so important to the culture of baseball and is as celebrated as any written word.

The poem hit the zeitgeist of early sound recordings once an actor named DeWolf Hopper got hold of it. Hopper first did a dramatic reading of it on August 14, 1888 and would do it thousands of times (said to be possibly 40,000) by the time he died in 1935.

Hopper also recorded it several times, including a famous version in 1906. Russell Hunting, described by some as "the most popular pre-1900 recording artist" did the first of the Casey recordings, in 1893.

By the way, Hopper's version is said to be the third most popular recording of 1906!

It has since been interpreted numerous times in print, animated shorts, and audio. Arguably the most famous episode of The Simpsons was called "Homer at the Bat."

My son has a copy of a latter printing, and it obviously brought me great joy to read it to him as a bedtime story.

Culturally, many have uttered the terms "no joy in Mudville" and "Mighty Casey has struck out" without ever knowing where it came from.

Such is the power of the poem that originated on this day in 1888.

It's never quite been determined who it was about. The poem predates Babe Ruth professionally by nearly 30 years. Some have suggested that it was based on early superstar "King" Kelly though there's never been any basis to that.

The great Vincent Price recorded Casey during his legendary career. Admittedly, if you've never heard the Hopper versions, I'll warn you that they're a bit over-the-top. So we'll post Mr. Price's version for your listening pleasure.

And wish Casey well in his next game.

What Are YOU Prepared to Do?

Be more than a photo op. (Genesee County Sheriff Chris Swanson walks with marchers --
photo by Jake May/The Flint Journal, MLive.com/TNS)

You're mad, aren't you?

But, what are you mad at?

Are you mad at the violence in the streets? Are you mad at the looting? Are you mad at those who don't remotely care about George Floyd but are just there to be seen and cause trouble?

Are you mad the president? Are you mad at local leaders? Cops?

All of the above?

So am I. I'm mad at all of that, and more.

But, start with Derek Chuavin. Add in fellow Minneapolis police officers Tou Thao, J. Alexander Kueng, and Thomas K. Lane.

Be mad at them.

Recognize that they are the reason we're here today. They're what popped the cork on the bottom of racism that has been bubbling. Go read about Rodney King and 1992 Los Angeles.

Remember George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery and the myriad other names. Don't let others tell you what to think.

Don't listen to rumors -- like the one that had Antifa working through Putnam County last night.

Don't listen to Don Lemon preach.

Read. Think.

Start there.

Don't go for virtue signaling. My oh my how it's everywhere. More often than not, they're empty gestures.

Posting a black square is nice.

But, to quote James Malone, as played by Sean Connery in The Untouchables: "What are you prepared to do?"

I'm going to listen and understand. Seems simple and, yet, it's not.

Blacks, browns -- minorities of all shapes and sizes -- should be heard. They're trying to be heard.

I'll listen.

Empathy. Understanding. Compassion. Respect. They're beautiful things.

The message gets muted for myriad reasons. Don't allow it.

I'm listening. I'm hearing why Black Lives Matters is a good thing and how it needs to be on the table. I realize I was wrong. It wasn't about being the only voice, but it was about being an equal voice.

We continue to fail to have conversations and, trust me, each word I type comes with that impending doom of "But...but...but...Trump..."

Spare me the constant tweets and the memes (oh, golly, you're just so funny except, you're not).

Your Trump obsession is dangerous (good or bad). You know why he could lose in November? This. Right now. This.

It's how your voice can be heard if you want it to be.

Right now, nobody impresses me. The likelihood of me voting for a presidential candidate is low.

We're begging for leadership. Dying for it.

I'm saddened at our government; that no one had the brains to corral this nonsense. I believed in the checks and balances and, instead, I saw people get sprayed so he can hold a Bible aloft for a picture.

It's not exactly Washington crossing the Delaware.

Why hasn't he been heard from? Help settle this country down.

For that matter, where the hell are each of the sports franchises I've dedicated so much time to? Derek Jeter and Michael Jordan -- both known for being apolitical -- have spoken. Where are the Yankees and the Steelers and the Knicks and the Rangers? (Yes, I know the Knicks and Rangers had a memo leaked saying they're remaining quiet. My point stands.)

*Note: The Yankees posted something just after I finished this post. Some still don't find it acceptable. I find it better than nothing, though no team is required to do a thing. (Additional note, 6/3/20: The Steelers have also released a statement)

My words mean nothing, and I know that. You all might have the answers. I don't.

I'm no hero.

Most of your tweets and Facebook posts and Instagram stories and posts and Tick Tok or whatever else go into a void.

I know better.

I'm one voice who talks into a microphone.

And that voice WILL do a show today to continue to try to have a conversation.

And I'll LISTEN if YOU want to talk.

And if you want an opinion or advice, then I'll offer it.

I can't do much but I'm willing to work together.

Monday, Monday

Raise your hand! Who has a case of the Mondays? (Office Space)

It's just another manic Monday (The Bangles).

Wait. the music challenge is over and has been handed off seamlessly to John Nash without my even offering or challenging.

I'm probably punchy (aka, dumber than usual) due to another night of no...what is it we're supposed to do?...ah, right, sleep.

Chico, the large gray cat, was at my side for most, if not all, of the proceedings. The only difference was I didn't turn on the TV to see more awful images of American cities in peril.

And, to be honest, those images aren't telling us everything. Yes, we see things -- the actual videos -- with our own eyes but everything before and after the camera is turned on is up for discussion.

Also, we are shown one part of a story. We (the blasted, much-maligned, awful media) can't be everywhere.

And there are plenty of J. Jonah Jameson's who want clicks and more dirty laundry!

And so, here we are. Should we go back to thinking about the pandemic? Remember that thing?

COVID-19 is so May 24.

It's almost fetch! (If "fetch" was happening, which it isn't)

Yet, right now, looking out of my lonely room ("Day After Day," Badfinger -- sorry, the music is still churning) all I see is a sunny morning. All I hear is my own typing and the birds chirping.

I'll do "Doubleheader" later (4 p.m., WGCH and Robcasting*) but I can't say I'm driven to talk sports, despite Major League Baseball players handing a new proposal (which will get shot down) to the owners.

*I'm very much pondering a Robcasting furlough. Sadly, it's not a free operation.

I keep believing. I keep trying to hang in there and be optimistic.

But, after the past couple of months, it's hard to be optimistic.

On everything. Literally everything.

Once again, words mean nothing.

Spoken to help nobody but you (Sorry, that's from "Words" by The Monkees. I really have a problem).

So, once again, we'll all drag ourselves to our appointed places.

Dialysis. The grocery store. The office (for those who are allowed). In front of the TV. Out to the rail trail. The construction job. The garbage truck. In front of a microphone.

The hot takes will all continue. I hate it. All of it.

I've never let this stuff ruin friendships and I really don't drop people because of it.

Shockingly, I respect all takes. I gather that's hard to believe.

But I'm close to a breakdown. Which means more steamy content for you. All praise clicks!

Somewhere, off in the distance, a dog is barking.

Nearby, the large gray cat is purring.

I don't like Mondays. (Boomtown Rats. I'll stop)

Farewell, May

Chico wants everyone to be cool like him

Greetings from my back yard.

I haven't written from anywhere except my desk in months. Literally.

Despite a mid-60s chill on my legs, I'm away from CNN and MSNBC and FOX News, each of whom I gave a chance last night.

One thought: Don Lemon is not an anchor. An anchor reports. An anchor doesn't doesn't preach.

I've been chewing on that since I literally texted the words "CNN is the most center of the three." Then Lemon stopped anchoring and began editorializing. Honestly, it was the last thing we needed in that spot.

We need journalists. People we trust.

It comes back to George Floyd. He's what matters.

Enough. We need positivity. Not phony positivity. God, I'm sick of that also.

But I feel like my voice is a waste. But I'll listen. That is needed.

Otherwise I guess I'll "stick to sports" or music or something else. "Stay in my lane," as the saying goes, I guess.

I hope to give you a diversion here.

And, with that, we're up to the final day of the 30 Day Song Challenge, and this might be toughest one yet.

Day 30: A song that reminds you of yourself

But first, here's a recap of the previous 29:

- Day 1: A song you like with a color in the title -- Yellow Submarine, The Beatles
- Day 2: A song you like with a number in the title -- Be My Number Two, Joe Jackson
- Day 3: A song that reminds you of summer -- The Boys of Summer, Don Henley
- Day 4: A song that reminds you of someone you'd rather forget -- Take on Me, A-Ha
- Day 5: A song that needs to be played loud -- Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway -- Live), Billy Joel
- Day 6: A song that makes you want to dance -- Head Over Hells, The Go Go's
- Day 7: A song to drive to -- The Heart of Rock and Roll, Huey Lewis and the News
- Day 8: A song about drugs or alcohol -- White Rabbit, Jefferson Airplane
- Day 9: A song that makes you happy -- American Girl, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
- Day 10: A song that makes you sad -- Alone Again (Naturally), Gilbert O'Sullivan
- Day 11: A song you never get tired of -- Conquistador, Procol Harum
- Day 12: A song from your preteen years -- Honky Cat, Elton John
- Day 13: A song from the 70s -- Baker Street, Gerry Rafferty
- Day 14: A song you'd love to be played at your wedding -- Maybe I'm Amazed (Live), Paul McCartney (and Wings)
- Day 15: A song you like that's a cover by another artist -- The Boys Are Back in town, Huey Lewis and the News
- Day 16: A song that's a classic favorite -- I Saw Her Standing There, The Beatles
- Day 17: A song you'd sing a duet with someone on karaoke -- The Weight, The Band
- Day 18: A song from the year you were born -- Midnight Confessions, The Grass Roots
- Day 19: A song that makes you think about life -- Taxi, Harry Chapin
- Day 20: A song that has many meanings to you -- Got to Get You Into My Life, The Beatles
- Day 21: A song you like with a person's name in the title -- Angie, The Rolling Stones
- Day 22: A song that moves your forward -- Vienna, Billy Joel
- Day 23: A song you think everybody should listen to -- So Little Kindness, Huey Lewis and the News
- Day 24: A song by a band you wish were still together -- Radio Free Europe, REM
- Day 25: A song you like by an artist no longer living -- I've Got You Under My Skin, Frank Sinatra (Live at the Sands)
- Day 26: A song that makes you want to fall in love -- Here, There and Everywhere, The Beatles
- Day 27: A song that breaks your heart -- It's Too Late, Carole King
- Day 28: A song by an artist whose voice you love -- Warm Ways, Fleetwood Mac
- Day 29: A song you remember from your childhood -- Rocket Man, Elton John

That made me feel like Casey Kasem! Ponderous, man. Ponderous! (How fitting is that term right now?)

Well there you have it. Admittedly my list used a few artists several times. Guilty as charged. I apologize.

So what makes me think...of me?

Generally speaking, I think most people think of two things musically when they think of me: Huey Lewis and The Beatles. And they're quite right.

I've been thinking about this for hours. I keep thinking of either "The Power of Love" or "Hip to Be Square." With the way my life (and world) is, I was even reaching towards a somewhat-unknown HLN song called "Trouble in Paradise."

The thing is there is no right answer and if I could do this all again, I might come up with 30 different answers.

In the end, whatever song I use doesn't matter and is completely irrelevant and, perhaps, even inappropriate to concern myself with, given the circumstances.

So, enough.

Queen. Radio Gaga.

Thanks for putting up with this nonsense for the last month and the last 500+ consecutive days and the last (nearly) 14 years.

Let's all do better.

"Radio someone still loves you."

 

Feelings

(NBC News)

It's a terrible time.

I didn't have the words yesterday or the day before and I still don't really have them now.

Amazingly, COVID-19 is not the top story. Coronavirus and social distancing didn't matter in a lot of places as I watched TV last night.

George Floyd mattered. He still does and he'll be an icon for years to come.

I wish I could say I'm surprised at any of this but I'm old enough to remember Crown Heights and Rodney King and, sadly, more until Ferguson and Baltimore and Charlottesville in recent years and, now, Minneapolis.

At this point I can only sympathize and empathize and hope we all do better but can only focus on me.

I watched coverage last night and read so many awful hot takes until I could no longer stand it.

I want to scream. It falls on deaf ears.

I want to go back to focusing on utter stupidity like the complete and total obnoxious arrogance I read before. It defined entitlement and the very thing that should be avoided, especially right now, and especially in the media.

Know the room, young man. Know the room.

People will talk. They already do.

But there's no point. You just need to let it play out and hope karma gets the last laugh.

I needed a respite.

I watched man go back into space a few hours ago. Bob Behnken and Doug Hurley lifted off from Cape Canaveral and was just fantastic. For a few minutes, people in my age group could stop and remember the days of Apollo and the space shuttle years, while those older than I am could recall back to the early days of NASA.

The launch was glorious, even if it was a giant commercial for Elon Musk. It was enough that Sean came out of hiding to watch it with me.

For just a few minutes, I was whisked to the old clips of Walter Cronkite anchoring the CBS coverage.

A glance at social media brought that all crashing back down. There's a reason I didn't do a lot of social today.

And, with that, we come to the penultimate day of the 30 Day Song Challenge. It might be too easy, but I think I'm OK with that tonight.

Let's keep laughing. Let's keep loving.

Let's move forward.

Day 29: A song you remember from your childhood

There are so many so, in the interest of my brain and as a tribute to Bob and Doug (no relation to the McKenzie's, hoser), let's dig back to Rocket Man. Music by Elton John. Words by Bernie Taupin.

Interpreted by William Shatner and Stewie Griffin.

If it was good enough for Howard Wolowitz then it's good enough for us.

"She packed my bags last night pre-flight..."

And The Award Goes To...

Keep in mind I was the only play-by-play man

Well, it doesn't go to me.

STAA (Sportscasters Talent Agency of America) just handed out their Jim Nantz Award to the top collegiate sportscaster.

To be quite clear, I wouldn't qualify, as I didn't call a single game during my time there. Oh, and I finished college 23 years ago.

Besides, STAA would never recognize a Western Connecticut State grad, would they? No little schools allowed or at least it appears that way.

Anyway, that's cool and all. Congrats to the winner, whom I notice was pictured with Norwalk's Eddie McCabe in his highlight package.

I covered Eddie McCabe at Norwalk High, including his game against Brien McMahon in Cooperstown in 2015. Huh. Go figure.

The same Cooperstown game I just downloaded form NFHS. Life's weird.

I digress.

I'm proud to say I know a couple of Nantz Award winners as well.

But, look, some allow this stuff to define them -- good or bad. Don't.

My friend Brandon Ross earned an honorable mention and I'm happy for him. He worked hard.

It's great to be an award winner. I have a couple of plaques on the wall from people who have been kind to me over the years (or felt sorry for me). I wouldn't exactly say they were "competitive awards." I don't belong to any broadcasting organization that hands them out. In fact, I never have.

So, party on, winners! But to those who pursued it and came up short, look long and hard at the big picture and recognize the journey has a long way to go.

And to those who didn't pursue it, you do you. I respect you also.

Keep grinding. Be yourself (as Mr. Barber told Mr. Scully).

Keep being the best YOU can be in whatever you do.

Build your network. Don't kiss ass. Remain authentic. Honor the craft.

Practice and remain humble.

And carry on.

*****
I'm sickened by what's going on Minneapolis. I'm further sickened by some of the things that come out of Washington.

I'm sad tonight.

And that's all I have to say about that.

*****
Day 28: A song by an artist whose voice you love

I've got an unpopular take here.

I prefer Christine McVie to Stevie Nicks in Fleetwood Mac.

I don't have anything against the whirling dirvish of chiffon that is Stevie. She's made lots of great (and, at times, overplayed) songs as a solo artist and with big Mac.

Maybe it's the contrarian in me but I love Christine's purring velvet fog, no doubt perfected via years of Virginia Slims and perhaps a bottle of vodka or two.

(I'm not sure of any of that. I just liked the way that rolled)

I've actually had silly debates (fights) over such stands. Doesn't mean I'm right (or wrong).

So, have at it. I thought this would be a different road to go down.

Here's "Warm Ways" on a rainy, humid night.

Baseball in the Printed Form

Cat sold separately

I was a bit of a challenge for teachers who wanted me to read.

"Rob, read something other than sports," they'd say.

Don't get me wrong. I love To Kill a Mockingbird and The Great Gatsby and other great books but I also love travel books and biographies and entertainment books (The Beatles? Hello?) and more.

And sports. Mostly baseball.

So after talking about this MLB.com baseball book story on Doubleheader, I received a tweet from Dylan Pescatore.

Great show today! @double5 Will definitely be picking up some of those books you mentioned!

— Dylan Pescatore (@DylanPescatore1) May 28, 2020

First, thanks! But, more importantly, I pulled everything off my bookcase (it used to be much worse) and took a look at the books that mean so much to me.

I should mention I don't have a physical copy of Luckiest Man by Jonathan Eig. I read that on my iPad and that's where it still is, along with all of Susan's books (which can be found here on Amazon). I hope to find a hard copy one day.

Otherwise, here's what I came up with.

It's not complete, of course. The book my dad bought for me in 1975 is packed in a special place, for instance.

But The Image of Their Greatness and The Ultimate Baseball Book are both there. Each one of those books was absolutely vital in grooming my passion for baseball history. In that same regard is The New York Yankees: an Illustrated History by Donald Honig as well as the similarly titled Yankees: An Illustrated History by George Sullivan and John Powers. Yankees Century by Glenn Stout and Richard A. Johnson is not only phenomenal but the authors both came to WGCH in a limo to be interviewed by me, so that will always matter.

Staying with the Bombers, Pinstripe Empire by Marty Appel is probably my go-to history book now. His research just blew me away, to be honest, in the same way that Luckiest Man did about Lou Gehrig.

Then, of course, there's Yankee for Life. Yes, I'm biased. That's Bobby Murcer's book of course. I wanted to interview him when it came out but, as we all know, we lost Bobby Ray in 2008.

Play by Play by Neal Conan tells the true story of an NPR broadcaster who decided to take a shot at calling games in the Atlantic League. Coincidentally, I interviewed him just after calling my first game in the Atlantic League.

My friend J Daniel's book, Phinally, is in there. History doesn't have to be just about the Yankees (and I hope I've proved that). The year 1980 was important in my growth. Dan Epstein's Big Hair and Plastic Grass also hits the groove of my youth. Conversely, The First Fall Classic by Mike Vaccaro and Summer of '68 by Tim Wendel predate me.

Let's see, I haven't mentioned Summer of '49 yet which, frankly, doesn't need an introduction. Read it if you love baseball. Thank me later. The great David Halberstam wrote that one, while David J. Halberstam wrote Sports on NY Radio, which isn't just about baseball.

Speaking of radio, that brings me to the life-changing Voices of the Game by Curt Smith. Want to know how I became a baseball broadcasting historian? Start there and roll through Smith's other books (I think I have four), including Pull Up a Chair, which is the unauthorized biography of some guy named Vin Scully. I got to interview Smith for a full hour once about that book and I probably need to unearth the audio.

Red Barber is also there. The Broadcasters was rereleased in the 1990's and I got a copy of it. Let's say that Vin Scully followed his advice. So did I. Virtually all young broadcasters didn't hear his advice and don't care to. And that's too bad.

Oh yeah, there's Bernard Malamud's The Natural. No introduction necessary (but it's not the same as the movie).

Mickey Mantle "wrote" a few books, including The Mick. Mythology ensued.

I also included Richard Sandomir's breakdown of the life of Lou Gehrig and the movie about him, Pride of the Yankees. It kept me company (along with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) during jury duty selection a few years ago. Sadly, Richard and I never got together on a time to do an interview.

The last two to mention starts with the big book of The World Series. I'd read this in my preteen years to learn about every Fall Classic from 1903-1978 as it included full play-by-play breakdowns. It's how learned about Don Larsen and those 97 pitches on Oct 8, 1956.

Finally, there's a fairly beaten-up first edition of The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant by Douglass Wallop bought for me by my grandmother. She knew literally zero about baseball, which of course vexed me furiously. That book -- from 1954 -- became the movie musical Damn Yankees.

Keep in mind my grandfather was a huge baseball fan (loved the Yankees; hated Mel Allen) who played semi-pro baseball in New Jersey. He died eight years before I was born.

So my grandmother SAW Ruth and Gehrig play and didn't remotely care.

Sigh.

You've gotta have heart (and that's from the movie). Maybe you knew that.

I realize this list isn't everything but these are my books.

*****
We're in the home stretch of the 30 Day Song Challenge.

Day 27: A song that breaks your heart

Hmmm.

I was leaning back towards Frank Sinatra and his amazing Sings for Only the Lonely album but I decided to go down a different path.

Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" is rough and so is J. Paul McCartney's "Yesterday." Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" is deceptively sad. I could also grab "Song for the Dumped" by Ben Folds Five but that's more of an anthem versus being sad. It's wonderfully angry.

And "Crying" by Roy Orbison? Well, yeah. The title says it all. In country, there's "He Stopped Lovin Her Today" from George Jones. Just wow.

I don't have the heart to use "River" by Joni Mitchell. Maybe Susan used that one in her song challenge.

But I'm going to a brilliant piece of music from a brilliant album by a musical genius. Carole King's seminal Tapestry was a big record in my house. Packed with hits, it included her version of Will you Love Me Tomorrow that lacks the poppy happiness of The Shirelles' 1960 version. It's a much sadder song.

But "It's Too Late" is the call. It's a just pure acceptance that it's over. It's just done. "Something inside has died," she sings.

It has a pop edge to it and, yet, it doesn't. Like a breakup, it has a feeling of a mixed bag of emotions yet, when you get to the heart, it's sad.

"One of us is changin', or maybe we've just stopped tryin'..."

I Wound Up On Zoom

"Special guest appearance by..."

"The Clubhouse" had the night off. So no Zoom meeting for me tonight.

Er...no.

When I saw the Renegades were doing a zoom call with Doug Waechter, who authored the lone no-hitter in team history, I was definitely interested. When I saw Sean Ford would be on it, I knew I had to watch. Sean called the no-hitter that night in 2000 and let a weird dude into the booth the following year.

We've been friends ever since.

So I watched quietly and enjoyed the conversation, anchored by Rick Zolzer.

Sean was breaking down the events of the game when he mentioned Ronald Acuña.

No, not Ronald Acuña Jr.

Huh, that name sounds familiar, they surmised.

With a quick review of the interwebs I deduced that Ronald Acuña is the father of Ronald Acuña Jr. The senior Acuña, playing for the Pittsfield Mets, became the final out of the no-hitter.

I texted Sean, who was participating from his home in North Dakota. As they reached a break in the Zoom call, Sean asked for an audible.

"Hey Zolz, can we bring on Rob Adams?"

My old partner was determined to make sure that I was the one to present the news.

He's always been too kind and it was fun to say hello.

In a small way, it was wonderful to do a something with the Renegades.

Next Wednesday I'll be back on Zoom with The Clubhouse again.

*****
Day 26: A song that makes you want to fall in love

Haven't we sort of been here already? Wasn't that the basis of the wedding song back in day 14?

So, to be honest, I'm not going to put a whole lot of thought into this one because I think I'll hurt my brain otherwise.

It's back to The Beatles we go.

"To lead a better life, I need my love to be here..."

Almost Perfect

From the world of the pandemic, the good news is the NHL announced they are coming back.

A 24-team tournament will get underway, most likely in July, aiming toward handing out the Stanley Cup by early fall.

This could have been baseball.

However, don't fool yourself. There are disagreements over safety but this is really about money.

Somehow the NBA, the NHL and the NFL have all handled things mostly in a low-key way while MLB keeps running their collective traps.

And, hey, why not moan about money in the middle of a pandemic with historic unemployment?

If it's 1994 again, it will be bad. Very bad.

The 2020 baseball season is in grave danger right now.

The good news is negotiations continue this week.

*****
Day 26: A song you like by an artist no longer living

Where does one start?

But I haven't used Frank Sinatra and it's time.

Hell, a large chunk of the performers are probably gone, including the great Count Basie.

It's one of the most perfect things I've ever heard. The power of Basie's band with Quincy Jones conducting.

Frank Sinatra at about his coolest.

The waning days of classic Vegas at the Sands Hotel.

Run for cover!

"I'd sacrifice anything come what might for the sake of having you near..."

Happy Memorial Day

I don't need an organized moment of silence to honor the lives lost in war on Memorial Day.

I simply thank those who made that ultimate sacrifice.

And so, that's all I have tonight: thank you.

To those veterans who are still with us, I hope your Memorial Day has been meaningful.

We'll thank you and honor you more formally on Veteran's Day and every day.

*****
Day 24: A song by a band you wish were still together

Well, there's a simple answer here.

The Beatles. I mean, come on.

But, I'm me. So I'm going to try something else.

The tough part is that there are acts like Fleetwood Mac, who solider on but are missing key members (Buckingham, Lindsey) and Genesis, who were going to reunite for a tour (and snobs like me feel that's great...but no Steve Hackett and, more importantly, no Peter Gabriel).

Then there's Queen and we've covered that one. Great -- there's a band calling themselves Queen that plays their music, featuring ... oh, forget it. I've had too many arguments on that one. Freddie Mercury is dead. This is not Queen, darling.

The Police would qualify, and that was one of the last truly great concerts I saw but there's still the Sting factor and, my God, him solo was arguably one of the worst concerts I saw.

The Doors and The Beatles and Nirvana and others with key members who have died all qualify, of course. But there's also no hope of them reuniting under their brand name (nor should they). Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin also fall under this category.

The Smiths? Nah, Morrissey is too much of an ass to make me care. I think similar things can be said about Oasis. Talking Heads left things sort of in the right spot but I suppose anything can happen, if only to see Tina Weymouth punch David Byrne in the face on stage.

So after some consideration, I went with R.E.M.

They continued on after drummer Bill Berry left the band in 1997 before ending things completely in 2011. Michael Stipe -- ever the enigma -- felt it was just time and that they had done enough. Mike Mills and Peter Buck have each done their own things (as well as Stipe) ever since. Stipe, of course, has also said he's not nostalgic so, unless someone needs money, the odds aren't great.

But that's probably my call, since John, Paul, George and Ringo won't be together anytime soon.

The other obvious answer is Huey Lewis and the News, of course, since Huey's Ménière's disease has probably ended the band's career. But, as of now, they're not officially over. So I'll stick with REM.

Here's the original Hib-Tone version of "Radio Free Europe."

SPORTS!

So the charity golf match with Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Peyton Manning and Tom Brady happened today.

It was fantastic and I'll be interested in the ratings.

There was smack talk and big shots and laughter and some drama. There were even celebrity cameos and lots of fun on Twitter.

This sports thing is pretty cool.

Add in auto racing coming back along with some tennis and we're getting there slowly.

We now await the official decisions on the team sports in the US (soccer is back in other parts of the world).

I have no profound words otherwise. I watched golf today and it was great.

I can listen to Peyton Manning talk for hours. The guy makes me laugh. His pre-match crack about having Eli, Nick Foles or Bill Belichick caddy for him was hysterical.

Tom Brady was funny and approachable but also grumpy at times. He also took good-natured ribbing and hit the shot of the day.

Phil Mickelson is the consummate riverboat gambler. That's why we love him. But he was also brilliant in breaking down the golf course.

And Tiger? He was great also. His personality was on display. We don't always get the more charming side.

This was all good, with the Turner group broadcasting it. Brian Anderson was a tremendous anchor, while Trevor Immelman and Charles Barkley provided fun and solid analysis. Amanda Balionis handled the interviews. Justin Thomas stole the show as the on-course analyst.

Oh, and speaking of stealing the show, take a few minutes and find the video of of Ernie Johnson explaining why he wasn't on the broadcast. There might be tears.

Kudos all around.

(Photo: Getty Images)

Let's do more of this.

*****
Day 23: A song you think everybody should listen to

I'm going back to Huey Lewis.

The band was obviously a hit machine at one point but there were other songs that either weren't hits of weren't released as singles.

So I thought I'd highlight something else.

The song is called "So Little Kindness." The lyrics, admittedly, are pointed. They're about a relationship that is over but the woman in this case can't seem to find it in her heart to be cordial.

It features a fierce lead guitar performance by Chris Hayes, who co-wrote the song with Lewis and saxophonist Rob Sudduth. Curiously, it initially appeared on the Time Flies compilation album -- one of four new tracks tacked on at the end. Lewis felt that they could do it better so they re-cut it for 2001's Plan B album*.

* It's funny the things you remember. I recall buying Time Flies at the Borders in White Plains, NY and Plan B at a Wal Mart on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Go figure.

Unfortunately I can't find the Plan B version, so here's the Time Flies one.

"Now I don't deny it's over but why must you be so cold..."

Baby Steps

This is the cover of the New York Times for May 24

Gov. Andrew Cuomo said the Hudson Valley can reopen.

Calm down, folks. It's a start.

Phase one doesn't mean a whole lot will change necessarily, but it is one small step.

The giant leap (that is, for people complaining about their hair) is in phase two.

Restaurants are in phase three and phase four is arts/entertainment/recreation (and that means sports).

I'm grateful to see us making progress but it doesn't mean social distancing is over by any stretch.

Look, I don't love wearing the masks and I know there are mixed messages about all of this stuff, but I just wear it and that's that. I wrote yesterday that the arrows in grocery stores are stupid and I stand by it. Why? Because many people are just not getting it and it creates more trouble.

Nobody is actively trying to ignore the arrows. They're just ... well ... clueless. That's the shortest answer.

There are social justice warriors who shame people about a lot of this stuff. I certainly don't need someone saying anything to my mother. Let's put it that way.

I sometimes go to a store that doesn't use arrows and things flow just fine.

Crazy idea! Common sense works sometimes.

But I honestly don't see the big deal about sucking it up and wearing the mask and I follow the arrows. The mask is on in the grocery store. I do it (most of the time) for picking up and dropping my mom off at dialysis. I do it to go to the deli for her egg sandwich.

I do it in any enclosed space or wherever social distancing is not possible. That's what the governor has said to do.

I realize how silly it all is because the grocery store and deli have plenty of hazards but I still follow that rule. I go to a house (worship, home, whatever) and they have rules. I abide or I leave. Pretty easy. If Stop and Shop says "wear a mask," I wear it.

I don't see it as this great loss of liberty ("Murica!") and if that makes me a "sheeple" then that's for me to deal with.

Judge away.

This wasn't clear (obviously) in a Facebook post I put up yesterday about the grocery store saga.
I'm as ready to move forward as anyone, but for the right reasons and if it's done the right way. That's the best way I can say it.

This just in: I communicate for a living and I pretty much suck at it.

But have a look at that New York Times front page. It says a lot. It's impactful. Nearly 100,000 dead. This has never been a joke or a hoax or a conspiracy. Are the numbers a little dodgy? Maybe. But this stuff is real.

This is nothing to celebrate when it's over, in my opinion. I'll be happy to simply move on.

It hit my family and thankfully it wasn't fatal. That's enough for me.

The sooner we do the right thing, the sooner it's going to move forward.

And the arrows will get scraped off the floor.

*****
Day 22: A song that moves you forward

After having no inspiration, this came down to between, ultimately, two songs.

I thought of "Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House. It's a song about not giving up hope ("But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling with me.")

Crowded House also did a really nice "pandemic at-home" version back in April.

Then I saw the suggestion of "Vienna" by Billy Joel, and my work here was done.

The song came out of a conversation with Joel's father ("Slow down, you crazy child") as the younger Joel was hard-charging through his music career. The story goes that Howard Joel was living in Vienna and implored his son to make sure to stay on the path but also enjoy it.

We could all use that advice.

Life, if you didn't know, is too short. I mourn that on a near-daily basis.

But, anyway.

I'll also always have affection for this song (besides it being a great song -- arguably top 3-5 in the Joel catalog) because of listening to Paul Silverfarb play it in a Boston piano store. If I'd had any guts, I would have tried to sing.

But, I don't.

Vienna may wait, I suppose, but Boston didn't.

Again, anyway.

"When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?"

Post the Song and Call It a Night

Just another day, right?

I find myself uninspired.

Oh, I've got topics but, really, why bother?

I read crap that I disagree with every day. Literally.

About sports, news, politics (of course), music, minutiae, and so on.

I bite my tongue so much that it is Swiss cheese.

"Not worth it," I often say (or get told).

So I don't comment.

I'm wasting my breath. Not a single person is going to change. Unloading what I think will only impact my blood pressure.

I just give up and care less every day.

Literally.

I owe you a song for the challenge.

Day 21: A song you like with a person's name in the title

I don't think I've used The Rolling Stones yet, so here's "Angie."

Letting You Off Easy Tonight

"Another music post? God, I hope it isn't The Beatles again."

For those who have tired of the music posts, we're spinning (get it? Like a record?) into the final third of the 30-Day Song Challenge.

Day 20: A song that has many meanings to you

I tried. I did.

I'm a crap writer who is going the easy route tonight.

You see, I've tried to not use the same damn artists every day and have pretty much failed.

Give it's after 11 p.m., I'm just going with The Beatles and calling it a night.

Not very original, I know.

The song doesn't have "many" meaning but what song does?

There are two meanings: the incorrect (it's a love song from a man to a woman) and the correct (it's an ode to pot).

And there you have it.

"Got To Get YouInto My Life"