Part. Of. A. Team.

 

He's got a baseball bat! Nothing bad can happen here...

Al Capone surveyed the assembled diners. Business had recently been, well, raided. There was a little trouble.

Mr. Capone spoke:

A man becomes preeminent, he's expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms, enthusiasms... What are mine? What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy? Baseball! A man stands alone at the plate. This is the time for what? For individual achievement. There he stands alone. But in the field, what? Part of a team. Teamwork... Looks, throws, catches, hustles. Part of one big team. Bats himself the live-long day, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and so on. If his team don't field... what is he? You follow me? No one. Sunny day, the stands are full of fans. What does he have to say? I'm goin' out there for myself. But... I get nowhere unless the team wins.

Capone then took the baseball bat he was holding and pummeled the man responsible for the warehouse that was raided.

I thought of this quote (from the great movie "The Untouchables") thanks to this tweet from Mahopac assistant baseball coach Shaun McGee. In the video he retweeted, Ole Miss baseball coach Mike Bianco tells of a man who was shot down in Vietnam and spent time in a POW camp. He said the man was initially saved by his parachute. Later on, a man recognized him in a restaurant. That man was the one who packed the parachute in the first place.

Get it? Teamwork. There are stars and there are those under the radar. Take care of everyone.

It reminded me of something I've been told -- that I always mention the crew on any broadcast. 

Yes, I do. Always. Whether I only have a first name or a nickname or anything tangible that I can mention, I always talk about the crew. Sometimes I'm really able to get to know them and other times a camera operator will walk by, set up, and that's it.

I do it for the simple reason that they deserve to be named, if only as "for all of us here at..." because none of it looks good or sounds good without them. I say it all the time: I just talk. That's not some form of false modesty. I truly see myself as a conduit. I'm the reporter.

So it doesn't happen without Bob Small or Sean Kilkelly or someone else in the studio. It doesn't happen without AJ Szymanowski on a camera or directing. It doesn't happen without Matt Hamilton handing me stats that I often made him read to get him on the air. It doesn't happen without Chris Erway providing analysis or Jake Zimmer stepping in for some play-by-play, in part to give my voice a rest. It doesn't happen even without tweets from Shawn Sailer.

You get the idea. The team can be big.

It doesn't happen without a lot of factors, including sponsors and executives and fans and athletes and coaches.

See what I mean? I'm a cog in all of this but often I get the attention because I'm the one delivering the message.

Next Tuesday, I'll do the talking. But a board operator at Z93 will make sure everything is in place on the radio side. His management will back him. At the stadium, I'll mostly produce and engineer. I'll be supported by Steve Gliner, Joe Ausanio, Rick Zolzer, Zach Neubauer, Tyson Jeffers, and the rest of the Renegades organization. Not to say they work for me -- far from it -- but I work with and for them and they'll help make me better in one form or another.

Beyond that, there will be part-timers (that's me, by the way) and interns who will have an impact. Quite likely, my very own Sean will be running a camera to my left in the home radio booth. He will also be part of the team.

So when you hear me or see me, know that there's a who crew that makes it all happen. Even with Robcasting, when it's just me, it's still beyond that because there's emotional support and financial support.

I thank the crew. From WGCH to the Gades to HAN to Local Live. Always.

I'm glad to be part of their team.

Wednesday. That's the title.

 

OK, we should probably start with that picture. Assuming you can see it (these blog sites often have media just disappear) it's a chiefs car and a fire truck, both courtesy of the Mahopac Falls Volunteer Fire Dept. A Carmel police car and other fire apparatus are out of view.

Flashback a few minutes earlier to a phone conversation. It was clear something was up with the stove in the house, so I called the propane company. I explained the problem.

"OK, so after you get off the phone, you and anyone in the house are to evacuate and call 911. Do not light any matches or open flames. After the fire department gives the 'all clear' you can call us back and we'll get a technician out to you."

The statement was made so calmly that I considered jumping in the shower. Then I did that slow-turning..."WHHHHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTTT?"

I got dressed and pondered Rascal. He looked at me from the bed, unfazed, except for wanting attention. It seemed to put him in a case would cause unnecessary stress and, from what I gathered, we were in no real harm.

It was just that -- well -- the house smelled. So I opened windows to air it out, petted him, called 911, and began loading things in my car when a police car drove up.

I told him the cat scenario and his reaction was, basically, "Do you think he'll run or bite?" I laughed and said he'll sniff or hide. No danger otherwise.

"Nah, he's fine."

The fire department assuaged any embarrassment.

"You did the right thing," I was told. "Your tank is empty so the remaining propane purged out. But you smelled it so calling us was the right thing to do."

They were all gone quickly, with barely time for a "thank you" or any other discussion. Still I waved and thanked them from a distance.

For what it's worth, I respect fire and police. I mean no controversy in that statement.

I petted Rascal to tell him all was well, gave him some treats, and called the propane company back. A quick phone call from a concerned neighbor later and I was onto that shower. 

The technician showed up, reset everything, put some propane in the tank and we were all on our way.

Yes, that was just the beginning of the day because there was still a trip to Dutchess Stadium. I made a quick sandwich, grabbed a seltzer, and jumped in the car. There was a radio test to be done.

Wanted: Some TLC. See home radio booth.

It took five minutes. I set up a mixer, a headset, and my computer. I went to a website and listened to some music. I heard the sound change and a voice come on. It was Chris Marino, Senior Vice President of Programming/Hudson Valley for iHeart Poughkeepsie as well as an on-air talent. He confirmed he could hear me and I confirmed I could hear him. We each said the other sounded great. We made a tweak in the levels from me, thanked each other, and said we'd set up a meeting to go over the details for the broadcasts.

I could have gone back home then, but what fun would that be?

Oh, I failed to mention that we also determined that I will work in the home radio booth since a few teams have toyed with sending visiting radio (though I'm growing more skeptical of that also). But Zach Neubauer and I both determined that the home booth would be good for me and we could likely put Sean in my booth as a camera operator.

Still the booth was a mess and you probably know I don't love that. So I did some cleaning and organizing and plotting what I need (a corkboard and a small light). For those who care about such things, it is not air-conditioned. There are two small fans and no game is starting earlier than late afternoon.

And the booth needs to be swept out and wiped down. The chair that I used had thick dust on it from at least since last August (by me for the Bottom of the 9th Tournament). I don't recall if I sat in that chair so it might have last been used in Oct, 2019.

So Zach and I set about how we want the audio to run. He is thinking along the exact same lines as I am. He wants a better crowd mic and audio from Rick Zolzer's PA system to run not just through my mixing board but through a board that he'll use for the web stream.

To that end, to answer a continued question, either get the MiLB app or go to hvrenengades.com to watch and/or listen to the broadcasts.

At one point, I was standing on a table with my head through the ceiling, figuring out where wires and cables were running to and from. So, you want to work in baseball?

I wasn't dressed appropriately for the work (khakis, button-down shirt) but it was glorious.

It was a little after 3:30 when Zach seemed to think everything was done with us. That's when I decided that, sure, I'll do "Doubleheader" and Zach should be a guest! I had the presence of mind to ask Zach for some -- ugh -- "branding" and damned if he didn't get me a home and away jersey to show off as well as a couple of hats.

It all went fine and dandy...until workers began messing with the internet. We lost the last ten minutes of the show.

So, I'm done, right? Wrong! President/G.M. Steve Gliner emailed me to ask for changes to the roster. So I visited him, chatted, return the jerseys and hats (he told me he could get me a deal on a jersey if I want one), and set about updating the roster. I told him I'd head back to the booth.

I was meticulous again. I checked each name and pertinent item. I formatted. I made it look pretty.

I emailed it back to Steve and packed up. I grabbed my large Pelican case of equipment and my briefcase and began to head down.

As of now, two mixers of mine, a microphone, and various cables have been contributed to the cause and currently reside at Dutchess Stadium. They would not leave last night.

Looking a little better

I almost didn't leave either, as I found all gates had been locked.

I texted Zach: "So guess who's trying to figure out how to get out of the stadium?"

He was in his office and quickly retrieved me through the team store door.

I went home, hungry and late for a date with game number one as the Gades played Jersey Shore. I won't even get into the fact that the video feed on MiLB.TV didn't work for me so I had to listen to the whole game.

Have I mentioned I'm not great at listening to other broadcasters? Especially games I think I should be broadcasting? Let's leave that right there.

The Gades lost 6-2 and I wrote a game story that I hoped was sufficient for having listened to it and followed it on the internet.

Oh, and the Yankees threw the Astros in a garbage can. Or something like that as I had that on in the background.

Today, chaos breaks this afternoon. I have Brunswick baseball at 4:30. They'd love for me to call their lacrosse game at 5:15 but I have "The Clubhouse" at 7pm. Plus I have to keep an eye on the Gades and write the game story. 

The moral of all of this is that something will probably have to give. I'm trying to keep the blog going and I hope you understand if all I post some nights are a link to the game story and a quick hello. Gripe as I might, I appreciate the habit of taking a little time to spit some words out.

I'd prefer all of this to happen without a visit from the fire department.

Dawn

 

Map courtesy of Minor League Baseball

It is just after 7am on Tuesday, May 4, 2021.

May the fourth be with you, of course.

My phone has already dinged twice with the sounds of texts and that was as good an impetus as any to get out of bed.

Sleep is a mystery to me more often than now anyway.

I put SiriusXM on the TV in the living room to entertain me as I type.

The Beatles are singing, as they have inside these walls since before I was born. "I Saw Her Standing There" still packs a punch in its sixth decade.

"One, two, three, FAW!"

The skies are dark and there's rain on the ground.

But today feels different.

Minor League Baseball is back tonight, baby!

I get it. You're sick of hearing about it. I've prattled on about it on a consistent basis since October 2019. I hope you'd simply just move along if that's the case.

From what I see, the first game is at 6:00 p.m. eastern when the Portland Sea Dogs host the New Hampshire Fisher Cats. That's Double-A baseball for ya, Suzyn.

A few other games will follow between 6 and 7 p.m.

In the still ridiculously named High-A East League, the Greensboro Grasshoppers host the Hickory Crawdads at 6:30. A few minutes later, the Asheville Tourists will throw their first pitch against the Brooklyn Cyclones.

Then, at 7:05 p.m. eastern, in Lakewood, NJ, in Ocean County, a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, and hopefully light-years from a bad reality show called "Jersey Shore" a different kind of Jersey Shore will take the field at a place called FirstEnergy Park.

A right-handed pitcher named Ben Brown will toe the rubber for the team, newly rebranded since they were last known as the Lakewood BlueClaws in 2019.

These Jersey Shore BlueClaws will face an opponent from 126 miles to the north. The BlueClaws are an affiliate of the Philadelphia Phillies. Facing them is an evil empire. Yes. That Evil Empire.

An affiliate of the New York Yankees.

For the first time in 606 days, since they lost to the Cyclones in the now-defunct New York-Penn League semifinals, the Hudson Valley Renegades will play ball.

Luis Medina, a highly-touted prospect, will get the ball for the Gades.

The reach of Gadesland (and beyond)

Is it killing me to not call this game tonight? Yes...and no. You know I want to call everything. You also know I've been fairly patient about everything COVID-related. Or at least philosophical about it.

I had it all plotted. I'd be packed. Equipment would be loaded in the car. I'd get a room. Wow, rates weren't great for what it's worth. I'd get to Lakewood in the early afternoon. Would I go the straight route down the Garden State Parkway or would I be a little more adventuresome?

I'd go to the room first to get comfortable. Then I'd go to the stadium.

At worst I could have made it a day trip with a late-night drive home.

It will happen. Just not today. 

You know I believe we should at least call the opener. You know I want to be calling the first game as a Yankees' affiliate. The first game in 606 days.

But it's OK. It's one more week to prepare. It's one more week to test equipment. I can watch the games on MILB.TV (and so can you -- there's a promo code to get a discount). Many have radio/audio broadcasts, including the BlueClaws whose "voice" Greg Giombarrese will call the game tonight.

Our day is coming next Tuesday in the Hudson Valley. It will be our turn then.

Tonight, we watch. Maybe practice a little off the monitor.

It's sports. It's baseball. Hope springs eternal on Opening Day. Every team has a record of 0-0. 

Tonight, I'll have a story to write after it's over.

The first of 120 stories to tell.

The greatest American band is?

Is this the answer?

I thought it might be healthy to not talk about the Renegades tonight (even if I just did).

I took note of another bracket discussion on Twitter this evening. This one was on the greatest American band. From what I could tell, the Grateful Dead were on their way to likely winning the whole thing.

With all due respect, blech.

But, with that said, what is the right answer?

It seems much clearer in the UK, for instance, as The Beatles tend to get most love but the Stones, Who, Zeppelin, and others get hyped. It often feels like the US is playing for second or much further back.

Not to say the US has bad bands. We can claim the Beach Boys and Metallica and Van Halen as well as Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Eagles, the Velvet Underground, The Allman Brothers Band, The Doors, R.E.M., and Nirvana.

There are underappreciated bands like Big Star that we should mention as well.

Those saying Bon Jovi will be hit with a response that will include something about a band whose "early work was a little too New Wave for my taste, but when SPORTS came out..."

Yeah, I'm not kidding. Huey Lewis and the News are legit but I also know their place. They crafted legitimately great pop/rock songs as a band who honored Memphis soul combined with the trends of their time and harkened back to early American rock.

I realize there are tons of bands I'm not mentioning. I realize I haven't brought up The Ramones or Talking Heads or Blondie.

Or Up Front (for Jon and Jeff and Shagger Dave and anyone else who might get that reference). I can still claim that I attended an Up Front show in the late 80s and I'm a better man for doing so.

Then there are the bands that are a mix of Americans and elsewhere, such as Fleetwood Mac, which achieved global success after adding two Yanks, and The Band, who were largely Canadian but one can't forget Levon Helm from Arkansas.

Of course, one always leaves solo artists out even though they have great, tight bands behind them. Billy Joel comes to mind, for instance, especially in the main days of his band from the 70s until the late 90s. Then there are bands like The Pretenders, whose main four members were really only together for two albums. Besides, only Chrissie Hynde is American, and she's lived in England since 1973.

Chrissie Hynde is great and I will hear no slander on that topic.

What do we do with groups like the Mamas and the Papas and Crosby, Stills, Nash (and Young)? The Mamas and the Papas weren't really a band, I suppose, so OK.

And what about The Monkees? Surely, despite the disrespect over them being "the Prefab Four," they still made some remarkable music -- both from Brill Building writers and on their own.

Chicago? What about them? OK, we can deride their sappier "Cetera-influenced" years but the Terry Kath era was pretty great and that man was an intensely brilliant guitarist.

Like I said, we can just keep spouting band names. None truly grab me as clearly "the greatest."

I've often thought the easiest answer was the Beach Boys, simply with the work they created between 1962 and 1967. Brian Wilson's intricate works inspired the Beatles a few times. "Here, There, and Everywhere" and the "Sgt. Pepper's" album were both thanks to "God Only Knows" and the "Pet Sounds" album respectively. Greatness inspiring greatness.

The results post-1967 were middling, with the infighting and Mike Love's narcissism taking over. Of course, there's also the matter of Brian Wilson's mental health.

Sure, a case can be made for Nirvana and I'm fine with that. Still, their output was so brief before Kurt Cobain killed himself.

So there's the conundrum. Of course there's no correct answer. If you think it's the Dead, well, I know Huey Lewis had a connection with them. That pleases me. 

But, still.

If you think it's someone else, it's probably not wrong.

So, have at it. Honestly, I don't plan to dig my heels in on anything.

Know when to walk away, part two

 

That was me this morning

This was not my originally scheduled post. I had that picture of Ryan Howard, the temp from "The Office" all set to go as my way of saying I wasn't in the most glorious of minds and was going to lay low. 

But...

The Renegades roster was released today.

I repeat: the roster was released.

We have the list of the players.

I set about making that roster look a little more official, meaning I put my tried and true Excel skills to work with the intention of it becoming a PDF or something proper.

So I checked all of the names against the list the team provided.

I checked each piece of information:

- Date of birth

- Bat/Throw on which side (or both, including throwing. Yes. Really.)

- Birthplace/Hometown

- Height/Weight

I was meticulous. I even found notes that weren't correct and, by the second draft, had those fixed.

Then we made adjustments to that so a third draft was necessary.

It took hours because I wanted it as perfect as I could get it.

And so begins the heavier work. Who hit what and where did they do that in 2019?

Who played in 2020, if anyone?

What little piece of information can I find to dazzle during 60 broadcasts?

To that end I dug through the 2020 Yankees Media Guide and pulled out all of the nuggets to create my own media guide. Of course, as it's electronic, it can be adjusted as the season goes along.

*****

Funny how this changed. I decided to make a "Know when to walk away" post again because I woke up just...ugh.

I decided you would not be reading that so I had a game plan in place so that I could post something and not sit at the computer all day. Thus, as I mentioned, the Ryan Howard (as played by BJ Novak) picture.

Best laid plans of mice and play-by-play announcers, amirite?

When I was asked to build the team roster, I went to work, albeit still grumpy, despite a morning that had me out early for breakfast and grocery shopping.

Thanks to dear Rascal for having me up at 4 a.m. after only falling asleep -- briefly -- a few hours earlier. I discovered much later that he had found some sort of insect and it had become his personal toy.

So I knew I was best to just stay away. I knew I'd see the roster announcement and I knew I'd throw myself into that but not to this extent.

I also had more equipment ideas (it's an obsession).

So much for doing taxes (including my mother's).

By the time I had to record a podcast tonight, well, you get the idea. The day got away from me completely.

And here I sit.

But I'm in a better place than I was when the day started. When everyone (it seemed) was on my list.

The week will be crazy and I have to keep my head about me.

Thus, I'll take a break when needed.

Unlike today.

Know when to walk away

 

It's May and the pressure is building.

Today I was struck with how I needed to be comfortable with the equipment that would officially be put to use on Z93 on May 11. So it was time to see what I had here. I needed to know what would work and what might not.

Behind the scenes, it's far more than just flipping a switch and starting to talk.

The internet needs to work.

The computer needs to be charged.

The cables need to be functional.

The mixer needs to produce a good sound.

And I need to talk and keep the sound levels appropriate.

In the studio, a board operator needs to keep us on the air. Plus they need to be in contact with me.

I need to get us to commercial breaks after the innings and during pitching breaks.

Oh yeah, and I also need to describe the action, keep an accurate scorecard, watch for any changes, keep an eye out for anyone warming up in the bullpen, take note of the crowd, look for defensive alignments, glance at scores online along with any news of interest, look up statistics and stories, do any necessary spot or promotional reads, entertain any interruptions, and adjust to literally anything else.

No big deal and I've done it for years but technical issues can be the proverbial nasty curveball that throws the whole thing off balance.

So it's important to review the equipment.

All of the equipment. 

I looked at multiple mixers, examined how many microphone inputs would be needed, along with other variables.

And, oh, should I get a new MacBook since a reliable computer will be necessary? What else will I need? 

I looked at things today and, eventually, overwhelmed myself.

It was then that I did what I've always told Sean when he'd get mad at whatever game he was playing.

Take a break.

So I did.

Eventually, this led me to mow the entire lawn for the first time in 2021.

Ouch.

While my exceedingly out-of-shape body might eventually appreciate the effort, I still heard my back screaming and my feet crying as I walked each step.

Did this stop me from thinking? Well, no, not really, but sort of. I listened to the Yankees game as I pondered the equipment combinations.

Still, I convinced myself there were other variables at the ballpark, which I will go to on Tuesday to test everything out.

Patience. Answers are coming.

Walk away and come back to it later on.

Things are clearer after that.

Hello, (new) friends

We'll both be part of the Gades' family in 2021
(2008 in Aberdeen, MD)

We're just four days away from the opening of the 2021 Minor League Baseball season.

Eleven days away from opening up at Dutchess Stadium.

My stomach churns with questions unanswered.

I greet each nugget of information with unfettered excitement as if a new portion of the Dead Sea Scrolls has been unearthed.

The umpire assignments were emailed to me today and couldn't print them out fast enough.

Yet, I realize that some readers might be new to these parts, so I thought a slight reintroduction might be necessary.

I'm your new/old broadcaster, Renegades fans. I've been around on and off for 20 years. It's a long story. It's also a good story but it's for another time (give this post a read).

I'll be up there...somewhere...

I'm one of you, Hudson Valley. This is my home. It's always been that way. I know the nooks and crannies from each of the counties.

Fishkill and Wappingers Falls will be where I hang out a lot between now and late September and yet, in truth, I've been hanging out there my whole life. I spent too many hours with family in Fishkill and Wappingers and Beacon.

I knew the Dutchess Mall when it was a mall! 

My son (look for someone who is a lot like me at Dutchess Stadium this season) went to John Jay. He's one of you also.

But I'm going to give you the best broadcast I know how to do. That's why I'm here.

What will that entail? It will be honest, first and foremost. Honest and accurate. I'm a reporter. I report, inform, educate, enlighten, and entertain.

I like to have fun, so long as it's not in the way of the game.

I'm not the star. The game is. The players are. The coaches. The trainers. The fans. 

I'm literally a conduit but I'm the one doing the most talking, so it's easy to get confused.

I'll tell stories. Sometimes they won't even seem like they have anything to do with the game, but it's about the flow for me. Hopefully, you'll just go with it.

There's nothing contrived in my broadcast. It's all meat and no filler.

I don't have a list of witty one-liners.

It's all been done before by countless voices before me. So I'll just be me. 

I just call the game. I don't live off statistics. In fact, I have a quote about them: "Statistics are used much like a drunk uses a lamppost: for support, not illumination." Vin Scully said that and you should know that he's simply the greatest ever. He's in a whole different world.

Road games? Well, that's all part of what makes this time so unique, isn't it?

I hope to get to Brooklyn, where Vinny first started and where Red Barber became iconic. Sitting in the catbird seat there is something special. 

I hope to get a lot of places but patience is still needed. So it's home games on Z93 for now, but trust me, everyone knows how I feel. They know I want to do as many games as I can because you should have coverage of those games.

It's why it's gnawing at me to not drive down to Jersey Shore on Tuesday night. Your broadcaster should call that game but these are the parameters.

But understand I have your interest in mind. I love the whole process. I love the grind of the road. I'm exhausted when the game is over. But I love it.

Oh and I should mention that when you see the game recap online, that's probably going to be my work.

I've been obsessively thinking about this since the summer of 2019 and even more intensely since I was offered the role that October. Like you, I've been waiting for over 600 days.

What I hope is that you'll find that I'm OK with what I do. I care about every broadcast. I care about the listeners. I care about the families that are listening. I try to create a community and invite you into the booth for a conversation via the radio or the internet.

And when I'm bad or have an off night? Trust me, I'll know it long before anyone else. Because I rarely say I've had a good broadcast. My standard is set that high.

I'm hoping you'll understand when my voice gets excited over something the other team does because the very nature of the beast is that exciting plays are just that. But I'll also be excited when the Renegades do something. Because that's how it should be. Scoring plays are great. So are great defensive plays and pitchers duels and...everything.

My hope is also that I can open the booth up and introduce you to some friends who would like to join me from time to time. I have years of working with fantastic analysts who have earned the chance to be on a broadcast. They've called football, basketball, ice hockey, and, yes, baseball with me.

Over 20 years of calling sports in the Hudson Valley, New England, and elsewhere has created some great relationships.

Those friends of mine know my style and we know each other's cadence and we all know how important chemistry is in the booth.

As for us? We'll learn from each other and it won't be that difficult.

Because, Hudson Valley, I'm one of you. I'm born and raised here.

I carry Renegades history with me. I've got the past and present, as we dive into the future.

Me, almost born a New York Yankees fan, will be your tour guide as the Gades switch affiliations to the Bronx Bombers.

If we haven't met yet, we will.

Soon.

This is our time, Hudson Valley.

BULLETIN! Lois Lane leaving Daily Planet

 

The paper was always the thing

It was all about the stories. Those are words I appreciate.

"Rob, I wish I had some of your demeanor," I was recently told.

The person -- someone I had not met before yesterday -- was pleased with my approach and I have to admit it surprised and pleased me.

I'm used to assuming I'm literally no part of that sentence.

Oh, not for lack of trying, but I also have a low tolerance for ... well ... you can probably guess.

So, in lieu of that, allow me to write an ode to a great journalist. The person who cares about the story.

Susan -- really, does she need a last name? She has "Cher" status at this point* -- is leaving the Darien Times. (Edit: she is moving to another role in the Hearst Connecticut Media empire) 

*She'd kill me if I used a Madonna reference as she's not too fond of the Material Girl and she'll likely be annoyed enough at me for whatever I write within this post so I need to keep her on my good side.

I think I'm a journalist. A *crappy* one (different words have been used) but one nonetheless. I've never met one better than Susan and I know quite a few.

She didn't just work at the DT. She WAS the DT. She found a way to massage and assuage every person she dealt with, good and bad. Where I'd grumble at her for allowing them to have anything to do with her, she'd make the best of it, pull her Fedora on that much tighter, take a swig of her Bud Light Lime, yet straighten her skirt and deal with whatever was in front of her.

I always told her she was the girl who could hang with the guys about as easily as anyone I've ever met.

But she's all of the above, and the fiercest journalist I've had the honor of observing.

You have to know her to understand. In all honesty, she's not as outgoing as you might think. She's actually incredibly shy and reserved. She's very private. But when she goes into "Lois Lane" mode, well, get ready because she's going to get answers.

She has the awards. She has the stories. She has the notebooks. She has a computer and a memory full of things to back all of that up.

Want a dissertation of 830-g (the affordable housing statute)? Yeah. Her. Want to know every...little...piece...of Darien town government? She's your editor. Need to know about a restaurant or business or some minutiae in Darien? Want someone you can trust to tell your story, no matter how emotional?

Want insane knowledge of Billy Joel lyrics? Yep. Her.

You want analogies? It's her pride and joy. Well that and her daughters, the esteemed Snakey and Pinecone of Wilton, of course.

I saw it wear on her. I heard it. I felt it. She was literally blood, sweat, and tears when it came to the DT (and she'll also be annoyed that I used an Oxford comma).

Often it was me being the jerk trying to keep her grounded and reminding her to tell people that certain hours were off-limits. It was also me who found out about those who did her wrong and getting hyper angry to the point that I didn't understand how she could look any of them in the eye. Yet, if she could do it, how could I let it bother me?

I know she could take care of herself. It's just my nature to protect and defend (and I'm still annoyed at some).

That's a whole different topic for another time.

Darien was a better place for having Susan in it. She dealt with people who openly tried to get her fired and went behind her back and that's just those who she worked with!

I might be kidding about some part of that.

But it was time. Time for a variety of reasons. Time to spread her wings. She's sad tonight to be leaving and excited for what's next. She's probably nervous. Maybe even a little scared.

I'm not talking for her at all. Yet I have a sense of what's crawling around in that brain that first came from Staten Island.

She's getting the respect she has earned since she made the announcement and deservedly so

While she'll say, "It's good for the paper," she knows that's where I call ... ahem ... you know.

It's good for her.

She doesn't need it as much as she thinks. That ferocity has carried her through stories both scandalous and benign.

The community was what mattered. She was Darien.

I could literally write a volume about just the nearly eight years that I've known her and the most recent times have been eerie as we've compared notes.

"Eerie." Few words are better suited when it involves Susan, who is also the queen of legit horror.

I know the drill. She'll thank me. I'll get the, "Thanks much!" and a heart from her. She'll likely not let this be seen on her Facebook page.

She might -- might -- pass it on to the Godfather (her father) whom I've become friendly with. That is if he doesn't see it on my Facebook page first.

She'll hate the attention. 

But she'll be grateful for it.

I raise a toast to you, fair Lois. To those fierce discussions about journalism and integrity. Thanks for allowing me to read your brilliance and for challenging me to be better both in written and electronic form.

Scott Pelley, one of your heroes, once told you to tell Lucy and Annabelle that the world will be OK in the long run (and I'm paraphrasing, of course).

I'm here to tell you that you, too, will be OK. That you'll still be that same journalist. That you're going to take those skills and that dogged determination to tell a story and throw all of that into your next challenge. Journalists like you don't simply toss those Fedoras in the trash. They look for their next story.

Go write your next story, Lois. We'll all be reading.

I'm too tired for a title

 

Clockwise from top left, Dave Torromeo, me, Mark Jeffers,
Ron Blomberg, and Bob Small

I'm too tapped out tonight to come up with words.

Yesterday and today were fairly insane but it's the nature of the beast.

I started today expecting to focus on a single video deposition. What I got was a lot more. Due to circumstances, I wasn't supposed to be on the Brunswick lacrosse call but fate opened the door up to do it.

So as I dealt with numerous issues and topics, I also began to see where going to the game was quite possible. The case ended much earlier than I thought and I set about pulling things together to go to Connecticut.

The game went off without a hitch and I buzzed down to the WGCH studios for the first time in months so that I could host "The Clubhouse."

I got to talk to Ron Blomberg, baseball's first designated hitter and an early idol of mine. I took great joy in telling him about wearing number 12 (his uniform number) during my first year in the Mahopac Sports Association.

Of course, I also asked him about Bobby Murcer, but we simply ran out of time for anything else. I know I could have talked about a lot more with him.

With that, I made it back home.

Numerous podcasts, questions, answers, emails, phone calls, lacrosse goals, a radio show later, it's time to reboot.

Radio gaga

 

Courtesy of the team I work for

You might have already seen this piece of news on social media but allow me to tell you here that the Hudson Valley Reneagdeshave a new radio partner.

After years of being on the group of stations including WLNA and WBNR, and other years of being only on the internet, the Gades head to FM on Z93, WBWZ.

What this means for fans is that you'll have multiple options to catch my call of the game. You can watch us on MILB.TV and listen to us on Z93 as well as online at hvrenegades.com and the MiLB app.

As you know, so much of my heart is invested in radio, so I'm glad to see games truly on the air. Obviously, I'm no stranger to internet only (um...Robcasting?) but I still love the magic of a terrestrial station.

The Gades have been on FM before, as part of their package with the WLNA/WBNR group in later years but to my knowledge, this will be the first year of being on FM exclusively.

Baseball and the radio work so perfectly together and I'm excited to paint the word pictures for everyone. I've spent too many hours turning a dial to listen to games at night from Boston and Baltimore and Toronto and Montreal and Pittsburgh and Detroit and Cleveland and Cincinnati and Chicago and even St. Louis. 

There are still things to learn, of course, with just two weeks before the first broadcast. We have to determine equipment and how we're delivering audio to the radio station along with other nuggets. I have to learn who the board operator (or operators) will be. They need to learn me and my cadence. I have to learn what the outcue is. Or am I creating it myself?

All questions -- like it or not -- will soon be answered.

Joining me on this journey in his own position is my son. Sean has accepted a role as a camera operator and whatever else the team would like him to do. That might mean he winds up working a camera in the booth with me, meaning we would be working together.

The thing about this is that I want him to fly on his own so I only suggested Sean's interest to the team and it was up to him to get the job. From here it's his to make or break. I've got my own things to deal with.

I also recorded the first episode of a new podcast series today, "Renegades Weekly," in which Director of Digital Media and Video Production Zach Neubauer and I break down the previous week and look ahead. Keep an eye out for that, as well as my interview with Scranton-Wilkes Barre RailRiders lead broadcaster Adam Marco.

Things are definitely happening and it's getting more exciting and nerve-wracking. New York's Gov. Cuomo has opened up more seating at Dutchess Stadium (and around the state, of course), meaning more fans can come to the ballpark (and hopefully bring a radio or smart device!).

I should say again that this does not end my time on WGCH at all. I intend to be doing "Doubleheader" and "The Clubhouse." I plan on calling Brunswick sports and anything else that I can. I've been asked to call Babe Ruth baseball once again in Trumbull this summer and there's talk of Little League coming back to Robcasting. These are all things to be weaved into the calendar.

But, to be clear, I'm currently exclusive to no one. 

The long journey to Renegades baseball being a reality is inching closer. A week from tonight, the team will open the 2021 campaign in New Jersey. In two weeks, it's showtime at Dutchess Stadium.

Sean and I will both be there.

The favorite sports broadcasters bracket!

 

Vin Scully calls the 1965 World Series.
That's the criminally underrated Ray Scott behind Vin.
Ray was the anti-Gus Johnson

"Hello again, everybody..."

"Hello, friends..."

"And a very pleasant good evening to you wherever you may be..."

Joe Manniello, who has become the master of all things brackets in my life, has done it again.

Recently, I did brackets of greatest Best Pictures, and Billy Joel songs, and Beatles songs. But today (echoing "today" Lou Gehrig-style), he brings us perhaps the most fitting of them all...

THE FAVORITE SPORTS BROADCASTERS BRACKET!

Now, look, I didn't pick those in the bracket and neither did Joe. I'm told that four people did a draft of the 32 participants.

Let's dispense with a few things here:

- Gus Johnson didn't get drafted. No further comment.

- Red Barber and Mel Allen also didn't, which is largely indicative of a need for a historian in the group, but we shall not quarrel.

- Not a single Caray to be found. 

- No Ernie Harwell. 

- No Marty Glickman.

- I can keep going but you get my point (no Phil Rizzuto, Joe Garagiola, Bill White, or basically any Yankees voices...).

Lastly, and I can't stress this enough...

Who's playing to lose to Vin Scully in the final because you all know he's winning this.

We'll start in the "I Don't Believe What I Just Saw" region.

Vin/Doris Burke -- Sigh. I'm a big Doris fan, but this isn't fair. Vin.

Bob Costas/Mike Tirico -- An all-Syracuse matchup (read: sports broadcasting elitism in the non-Fordham/Arizona State/etc division). Like Tirico. Love Costas. Bob.

Jack Buck/Joe Buck -- We will see JACK tomorrow night! (This one is just mean)

Howard Cosell/Don Criqui -- Question: How well do you all know me? Don Criqui is an all-time great PBP voice. Cosell is an all-time great mouth who stepped on countless PBP announcers. As Don Imus called him, "The Great Don Criqui." Yes. Really.

Sweet 16:

Scully/Costas -- That's rough for the second round, Bob. You deserved better. Vin.

Jack Buck/Criqui -- Damn. Sorry, Don. Jack Buck.

Regional final:

Scully/Buck -- "I don't believe what I just saw" gets steamrolled by "In a year that has been improbable, the IMPOSSIBLE has happened." Except, it's not impossible. It's Vin. All day.

To the "Do You Believe In Miracles" region.

The team of John Madden-Pat Summerall against Leslie Visser (who wasn't a PBP voice anyway) -- Unfair. Pat and John.

Jim Nantz/Ian Eagle -- This will break over certain lines. I love Nantz. 

Curt Gowdy/Kevin Harlan -- I bet Harlan wins this one big. "The Cowboy" (Gowdy) was the voice of the big games when I was a kid. I'm taking Gowdy.

Al Michaels/Tony Romo -- Al is miraculous and one of the great PBPers of all time. He's also a Scully disciple. Al.

Sweet 16:

Madden-Summerall/Nantz -- Goodbye, friends. Pat and John.

Gowdy/Michaels -- Curt hit the back nine in the 70s. Al was on the front nine and is still swinging. Al's got a lot of great calls. Curt goes all the way back to Mel Allen in the 40s. But Al is Al.

Regional Final:

Madden-Summerall/Michaels -- two against one. Telestrator against sarcasm and gambling. Summerall did tennis and golf away from football and was an early sports reporter in New York. Al has done baseball, hockey, and basketball. It's tough. The edge -- slightly -- goes to Al Michaels.

That leaves us a Final Four matchup of Al Michaels against his idol Vin Scully and let's not kid ourselves, shall we? Vin.

The "Whoa Nellie!" region.

Doc Emrick/Charlie Jones -- An inspired call with Charlie Jones but he's no match here. He's been ladled away and shuffleboarded by Doc.

Verne Lundquist/Gary Thorne -- Great first-round matchup. I could go crazy with this one but the number of great calls in Uncle Verne's career is overwhelming. YES SIR!

Brent Musburger/Tim McCarver -- "You are looking live!" at two guys who weren't initially known for play-by-play, at least nationally. T-Mac became a World Series staple doing color, and Brent is Brent. I'll give the edge to Brent.

Keith Jackson/Bill Raftery -- Oh this is just wrong! First, I'm a play-by-play guy. But Raft is one of my favorites. But Keith IS college football (even if he called so many baseball games that sounded like he'd rather be anywhere else). Can I "send it in JEROME!?" No. I just can't. "Hello, Heisman!"

Sweet 16:

Doc/Verne -- I hate to say that you know how this one is going. Doc waffle boards Uncle Verne aside.

Brent/Keith -- I love hearing Brent tell stories but Keith is Keith.

Doc/Keith -- Remember, this is my bracket. It's not who I think will win. As I said, I always felt Keith was ambivalent at best when calling baseball (and he was on the "Bobby Murcer" game when Cosell allowed him to talk). But Doc changed how I viewed hockey and definitely how I called it. "WHAT CHAOS," indeed!

Lastly we head to the "OH MY!" region.

Marv Albert/Sam Rosen -- This had to be a local pick. Marv is a New York institution that became huge nationally. YES!

Howie Rose/Mike Breen -- I was going to "Put it in the books!" but then "BANG!" Mike Breen is one of my heroes. Love Howie (really, I do) but Breen is a different level. 

Kenny Albert/Gare-Keith-Ron -- Er...what? The Mets fans will whine. Kenny will understand. GKR. 

Dick Enberg/Dan Shulman -- This is so unfair to Shulman but Dr. Enberg has been one of the voices of my life, in fact even "BV" (Before Vin). The Renaissance Man himself, Dick Enberg.

Sweet 16:

Marv/Breen -- This was a setup. A tough one. Both can claim the hand of Marty Glickman as guidance. Both worked with the irascible Imus. Both are hysterically funny. Both did local sports (Breen on WFAN and Marv on Channel 4). Breen did football at one time in addition to basketball while Marv did the NFL, Knicks, and Rangers. Plus he anchored the World Series on NBC at one time. But I've met Breen and love his style. That's literally the only edge. Breen.

G-K-R/Enberg -- Dick Enberg. Next.

Breen/Enberg -- I love you, Mike. I really do. But Dick Enberg helped me love tennis from Wimbledon. He helped me get more entrenched into the NFL with Merlin Olsen. He nudged me along with college basketball. Plus he hosted the "Sports Challenge" TV show. He goes to the Final Four with Doc Emrick, Al Michaels, and Vin Scully.

I've already moved Scully into the championship.

Now it's Doc versus Dr.

I hate that it's come to this. Each man has impacted me profoundly. I never had a chance to talk to Dr. Enberg but I did talk to Doc Emrick last year. I've made it clear how both helped guide me as a broadcaster. Dick Enberg's two edges are that he has a longer impact on me and that he did more sports, though some forget all the different things Doc Emrick called.

You know how this is going to turn out anyway, and I'd love to call a draw but I can't. Dick Enberg sashays into the final by a whisker.

I told you from the beginning who would win this all along and everyone else was fighting for second place.

Vin Scully over Dick Enberg.

Which is no crime.

Oh my!

Just not my "Hill of Beans" tonight

 

We could all use a Bogie in our life

The Academy Awards are on and I'm not watching it.

That is, I just haven't turned them on. There's no protest on my part.

It has nothing to do with politics -- though I prefer when they simply hand out awards and call it a night.

Look, some come for the glitz and glamour.

The fashion.

The celeb buzz.

For me, it's pure history.

I love movie history. I generally love most history (good and bad) which is why I don't like it when we try to erase it...

Stop. That's not the path I want to take.

So, yeah, movie history.

I could still turn it on before the end of the night, I suppose. I have nothing against the movies. I haven't seen them but that doesn't keep me from watching the ceremony.

For me, Oscar is at its best when they remind us of the glory of filmmaking. I can do without the musical performances and a lot of the other stuff of the night. Inevitably I drift off during the show by either reading and keeping it on as background noise or putting something else on.

Then I engage again for the big awards.

Anyway, I just find myself not interested, which is par for how I've felt with all awards shows this year.

I did, however, see a laughably bad list (such a dangerous word) ranking all of the Best Picture winners, beginning with "Wings" in 1929. The list was so awful that I won't ever link it here.

For me, the best Best Picture winner is "The Godfather." If you don't like it, by all means, leave the gun and take the cannoli.

After that, I'd probably pick "Casablanca" second. From there it's a crapshoot of movies that I think are truly great, some that are not so great, and some that I've never seen.

Then you're reminded that "Citizen Kane" didn't win, losing to "How Green Was My Valley" and your head begins to hurt.

Then there's the "The Greatest Show on Earth" debacle, a film that was...fine...but in no way was it better than "High Noon" or "The Quiet Man."

Oh, some years had me pleased and some just livid. Best to not get me going on "Shakespeare in Love" for instance. In fact, that was a fairly grumpy night for me, as I watched "Shakespeare in Love" beat "Saving Private Ryan" for Best Picture and Roberto Benigni top Tom Hanks for Best Actor.

However, this is certainly not meant to be a "back in my day" type of rant. I'm not denying the power of modern moviemaking at all.

For whatever reason, I just don't have the zest for it at the moment.

So if you're watching, enjoy it. If you're not, I get it.

I'm right there with you.

Happy birthday

 

Front and center among some of her grandkids and great-grandkids last July

It's my mom's first birthday since she passed.

She liked the fuss more than she let on.

I can remember her 70th. She wanted no part of a party. She swore that to me. So I was the fool who told others to not fuss because she didn't want it.

She had a surprise party and was the belle of the ball, of course. Lesson learned.

We were in North Carolina for her 80th. Again, she wanted minimal fuss.

Then she grumbled about minimal fuss, in part because we did something for her a few nights after her actual birthday because one of her granddaughters lived 1.5 hours away in NC. We wanted to do it right for her.

But we miss her today. Obviously, I think of her often and, basically, every day.

We're still dealing with our grief in our own way.

I haven't processed it. As it has been for months, I keep thinking she's at the nursing home or dialysis, except I don't have to do her laundry.

I still figure she needs something from the grocery store or her egg and cheese from the deli on route 6 between Carmel and Mahopac.

We knew it was coming. I watched her fade. The pictures on the day Sean graduated told me a lot.

There's still this feeling of shock.

Yet today is to celebrate all that she brought us in 83 years and beyond, as she hits 84 today.

As I wrote yesterday, I'll go call baseball. She'd like that. She'd also like that I would miss one of the three games I could call today to honor her birthday.

So I will.

It's certainly not the same without her. 

That's the understatement of 84 years.

So much to do

 

I still have some game broadcasts on cassette

It's Friday, April 23.

May 1st is a week from tomorrow. The Renegades open on the road three days later.

They open at home a week after that.

There's still a lot to do.

I might have mentioned that I've tried to connect with each former Renegades broadcaster (or at least what I would call the primary voices). I was hoping to get sound from each of them to create a montage to play. In the end, I didn't do that badly. I got eight out of 13 (including me). However, two of those were thanks to my own digging around.

Sean Ford told me he doesn't have his archive -- at least, he doesn't think so -- but I had a few things. In the end, I chose a home run call from our broadcast at Fenway Park.

I found Josh Caray's call of a catch to end the last game at Dutchess Stadium: game one of the 2019 NY-Penn League semifinals against Brooklyn.

Geoff Brault sent me a call of Carlos Beltran striking out in a rehab assignment at Dutchess Stadium. The best part? I'm doing color on that call.

Bill Rogan, Rick Schultz, Jacob Wilkins, and Ben Gellman-Chomsky all sent me some audio as well, with Schultz sending me several items.

JJ Duke told me he would get me something eventually. All good and no worries.

It's a fraternity and even those who didn't get me anything still take a certain level of pride in their time in Dutchess County. The beauty of this project is they can always send me audio later on and I can edit things.

I don't know if what I created will ever see the light of day but I'll tell you I felt a great deal of pride to hear my own voice along with each of the others.

Oh but there's still so much more. I'm trying to figure out who is broadcasting for each High A-East team. Some teams list the name on the website. Others don't. Then there's sleuthing by doing Google searching and other queries.

So I've found out that Hudson Valley has a broadcaster and, thankfully, it's still me. I know Keith Raad is at Brooklyn because he and I have talked extensively. Greg Giombarrese is the name of the Jersey Shore broadcaster. I connected with Luke Hallett at Winston-Salem yesterday. I also know of Shawn Murnin at Bowling Green and Kevin Karel at Rome. It appears that Doug Maurer is the man in Asheville.

I have no confirmation at Greensboro and Greenville.

After that? I've heard Aberdeen will have a broadcaster. I'm not sure what Wilmington is doing, and it appears Hickory won't have a broadcaster at all.

You can probably guess what I think of that.

Again, I think it's a brotherhood, fraternity, or whatever term you want to use. I think we can each be a source of information for the other. When it works, fellow broadcasters can work together and be friends and support each other.

When it doesn't...

*****

One other thing. I'm shocked at the number of jobs that are still open or just getting filled.I saw Fayetteville -- yes, that Fayetteville -- has an opening again. While I'd love to be closer to Kristy, Hector and family, I'm pretty darn happy where I am.

If I haven't mentioned it, I'm a broadcaster for a Yankees affiliate, a mere 30 minutes from my front door. It's pretty nice to see job openings and just watch them, given I'm taken.

*****

Tomorrow, we'll fight the emotional tide of the calendar by being busy, and wow did people want me to work for them. I'm grateful for that.

I was wanted back in Pennsylvania again, presumably, so I could blow another tire (I kid). I had an offer for Greenwich lacrosse but Brunswick gave me baseball first (we'll come back to that). Then the University of New Haven surprised me by offering me a baseball doubleheader (we'll hopefully talk again soon).

Was that everything? Well, sort of, but let's go back to Wick baseball. So, the game -- against Greenwich Country Day -- was scheduled for 2 p.m. But rain is coming on Sunday, so Wick moved the GCDS back to 11 a.m. and rescheduled a doubleheader with Poly Prep from Sunday to Saturday at 1:15 and 3:30.

Yes. A tripleheader. However, barring something unforeseen, I will do only two of the three.

As if she's sitting on some heavenly throne trying to mess with me, tomorrow is my mother's 84th birthday. She'd want me to work. No question. Make the almighty dollar.

She'd also want me to honor her birthday. Trust me. She'd say otherwise but I know better.

So I'll do the two games -- 11 and 1:15 -- but have dinner in her honor later on. Sean will join me. It's where we probably belong.

And time will keep marching on.

A deep dive

 

Is Dropbox the answer?

I'm in the process of trying to figure out the best way to archive old digital files.

You might recall I had a bit of a scare when I couldn't access files on an old external hard drive. Well, I finally bought a device to help me and, today, got around to emptying the hard drive off (thanks, Marc Ducret!).

Now it's a question of where and how I store all of these old game broadcasts and other files. Sure, Dropbox is nice but it's also not cheap. But is another external drive the answer? Or some other service?

As always, I've been reading and researching and overwhelming my brain.

But this process meant diving into the rabbit hole of broadcasts from the Gades, HAN, WGCH, Local Live, and more.

Remember the Georgian Court basketball games I called in a snowstorm and wound up stranded at Post University? Those broadcasts are there.

The long, hot summer baseball tourneys? Got 'em.

The first lacrosse game I called -- back in 2005? Yes.

And all kinds of wacky Hersam Acorn audio when I was literally the only person who knew what we were doing (thus...Robcasting). 

Some of the files might be bad or weren't complete for one reason or another. That highlights a huge bummer for me. When HAN went primarily to video, we initially talked about keeping the audio element.

Then, we didn't and the audio came to an end so it was on me to create an audio recording if I wanted one.

Eventually, HAN made a business decision to put many of the game broadcasts -- including games that I called -- behind a paywall.

So, at this point, I don't have access to them and that's a shame. I recorded the audio of some but not all.

There are certainly a few I'm quite proud of, such as the 50th FCIAC Championship football game. Chris Erway and I were on fire for that one. I mean, there are so many others.

Hopefully, I'll get that audio one day (even if it's video).

Of course in those files are stories -- good and bad. There's blood and sweat and tears. There are a lot of long nights and exhausting drives home. There are a lot of late-night conversations to give me the energy to make those exhausting drives home.

This is true of every stop I've made along the way.

There are a lot of great memories.

And yet...

My eye drifted to Sep 11, 2015. John Jay of Cross River at Yorktown football. The internet was terrible. We struggled all night. The broadcast felt like a complete disaster on multiple levels. I had to go to the athletic director's office to sign a waiver for us to broadcast the game.

The next day we held our breath at Notre Dame of West Haven for football as we lost power a few times and nerves were raw.

Those are just a couple of the horror stories.

But the triumphs. That 2015 FCIAC Championship. The Cooperstown game between McMahon and Norwalk. The long stretches of hockey and basketball championship runs.

Broadcasting at Webster Bank Arena and Ingalls Rink and Mohegan Sun.

I could go on but I sense you're getting the idea.

These are files that are important to me so I have to find the right place to keep them safe. With those files comes even more memories.

It really could be a book but I don't know that anyone would ever care to read it.

The shutdown

 

Gio Urshela (photo: USA Today)

Justice was served last night in Minneapolis and I was ready to report it.

I had heard the verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial was in and was expected to be announced while I was on the air doing "Doubleheader."

The news actually broke roughly ten minutes after I got off the air but I was prepared just in case. While I still discussed sports, I stepped into my news reporting outfit and tried to deftly move between the two, in preparation for whatever was coming.

From there, I waited and watched.

As the verdict was read, I pondered what, if anything, I'd say either on social media or here on the blog.

I found a tweet from NBA reporter Shams Charania that summed up the verdict, retweeted it, and...

I ate dinner.

I watched the Yankees/Braves game.

I texted.

I watched more baseball.

I fell asleep.

To sum up, I was off social media completely for the night.

I didn't care what you had to say -- you on the left or you on the right.

I didn't care what the media had to say either. Nope. I didn't need Sean Hannity or Chris Cuomo or Anderson Cooper. I didn't even need local news.

Nobody -- not a soul -- was going to inform me of something I didn't already know. Nobody was going to change my mind, given I saw the video and had the facts on this case last year.

I had no interest in watching the reaction last night. 

And sure enough, come this morning, I read enough #hottakes.

In my opinion, this was the healthiest approach for my sanity and I'm glad I did it.

I addressed things when I opened "Doubleheader" today. I expected a guilty verdict. We got a guilty verdict.

Then I talked sports. The Yankees found a way to win. So did the Knicks. The Rangers and Mets both lost. Some games today were postponed due to the weather.

Stuff like that.

The world continues to rotate.

You woke up early. No one cares.

 

We're revisiting my man, Dr. Rick, again. 

He's the "parenta-life coach" featured in the Progressive Insurance commercials.

In one spot, featuring the good doctor hosting a seminar, we see a slide projected behind him. Dr. Rick echoes the words on the screen.

"You woke up early," he says. "No one cares."

Except, I did wake up early, and I care.

The alarm greeted me at 3:30. As often as I set an alarm I rarely need it. My father was like that. I was always amazed at how he'd just get up. You never heard an alarm. His internal alarm just got him out of bed.

I've developed that same alarm and it's a blessing. And a curse.

I can only imagine what it would be like for him to have a cell phone or, perhaps more hysterically, Alexa. That's who woke me up today.

I can hear him yelling at her. Oh wait, that's me. But it would be him also and it would be worse.

I'm sitting here, waiting for others to join me for this depo, trying to tell myself that this is just another story to tell. That it's part of the fun.

Alternatively, I'm thinking about how great it would be to get in the car and go...somewhere.

That's my more pressing thought.

Most of my early drives begin at 5:30 but, in truth, I do that for the others traveling with me.

When I left to drive to Charleston, SC by myself in 2012, I was up and ready to walk out the door at 3:50 a.m. But then I argued with myself if I was truly ready and double-checked everything before leaving a half-hour later.

So 5:30 was more of a compromise for Mom and Sean.

And now just Sean.

That early drive is coming. I'm trying to believe it. I keep thinking we can make North Carolina happen this summer when the Renegades are on the road.

Out the door, I'd have the radio on, checking on traffic to get around New York City and New Jersey.

Then the internal debate about tolls would begin. Do I want to be fleeced by the New Jersey Turnpike and, for that matter, how am I crossing the Delaware? 

Those are decisions that I would make with the information presented via traffic reports and how we're moving along. I remember one recent trip -- 2018, as I recall -- in which we were making such good time that I just stayed on the Turnpike, as opposed to opting for Interstate 295, where there are no tolls.

We were out of the house at 5:16 that morning (everyone was ready early) and, three stops later (one in Mahopac), we were in North Carolina. I began unpacking the car at 3:29 that afternoon. We made great time.

Again, I think back to Dad. He'd be blown away by the notion that there was a thing called Waze that could tell him where construction zones and other traffic backups are, given his perpetual paranoia about Washington, D.C. rush hour. Justified, I might add.

I'll always say there's a strategy to traveling. At least in my style of traveling. I've considered where we'll stop but that doesn't mean that's where we'll actually take a break. In fact, unless I'm hellbent on a particular place, it's more likely I'll start thinking about what and where miles down the road. It's more spontaneous than I'm making it sound.

These thoughts are far nicer than sitting here in my office as work rolls along.

The road beckons. I'll be back on it again one day.

Even if no one cares.

(Opening Day is two weeks from today. I'll let you know if there's a plan for anything Gades-related that night.)

Vin got a ring

(Photo: LA Dodgers)

My words are few today.

So I need that picture of our guy Mr. Scully. That's the first picture I've seen of Vinny since his wife Sandi died in January. Nice to see him.

I'm sure his heart still hurts a bit also.

Anyone asking why the Dodgers gave him a World Series ring will receive one...simple...answer.

Because he's Vin-freaking-Scully. Period.

My Tuesday job begins at 4...in the morning. So, as I sit here writing at 7:25 p.m., I realize it is in my best interest to shut down and chill.

Oh and I recorded a podcast with Scranton/Wilkes Barre play-by-play announcer Adam Marco today. That will be out in a few days. Sort of a "Welcome to the Yankees system" thing. So that's cool.

And another podcast still to come.

No rest for the weary.

Good night.

It happens

 

"Have a nice day." -- Forrest Gump

There's too much negativity, so I won't project it.

But I am OK after last night's tire event. I got home a little after midnight.

I feel fortunate that my cousin, Kris, was able to help me with the stubborn lugnut that probably would have destroyed my back (which was already sore enough) during l'affaire du tire (which is actually "pneu" in French apparently). 

He doesn't live too far from where I hung out on the side of Interstate 84 and I'm grateful for his help.

After he showed up, we were done in no time and spent more time catching up and talking than anything else.

Now I have to figure out how and where to get a tire. I also have to find the time to go sit in a tire shop. That means a likely lost day of work.

There are a ton of "what-ifs" I've considered, among them the simple version of getting off 84 at that exact exit, leading to the pothole. What if I had just stayed for the night in Milford, PA like I was considering? 

In fact, at one point, I was going to stay in Milford and then head to New Jersey Sunday morning for wrestling. That, however, changed. At another point, I was going to meet my niece Kristy somewhere around the Milford area and crash with her and her kids. That changed also.

But that thinking can make one crazy. It's the luck of the draw.

I know I don't need four tires but you know how these things work. That being said, if you have suggestions of a trusted tire source not too far from Mahopac, feel free to let me know.

But I see the blessings in all of it. Things can always be a lot worse.

Still, it's often so hard to stay upbeat, as I'm sure you can agree. No need to review the laundry list of why.

So I thought I'd just pop on and say hello. I have nothing profound to offer.

There will be a new podcast in my life soon.

I mowed part of the lawn today for the first time in 2021. So begins roughly six-plus months and that's actually a great thing.

The Yankees are bad. The Knicks are good. The Rangers are meh. The Mets have already won the World Series.

The Red Sox uniforms this weekend were not worth saying anything about.

What was a bright and sunny day has turned cloudy.

Honestly, that's about it.

Hi from the road...

 

...the side of the road.

Oh yeah. That.

I called baseball and softball for WYNY Radio in Milford, PA today. For seven hours, Tony Goff and I laughed and had a ball calling these youth games.

It was cold and damp. My back ached. We got a few breaks but we were "on" all day.

All worth it. All stories worth telling.

But the journey home has not been good, culminating in blowing out a tire as I moved into the left lane to turn back on Interstate 84 near Newburgh. I knew it was bad and, sure enough, my tire blew.

And here I sit, on an entrance ramp.

I can change a tire. You bet I can. However, something is up with the lugnuts.

So right now I can't.

I have a call out for help and they should be here ASAP. But until then, I'll be in the car.

I was hoping my story to take away from my trip to Milford, PA was that I shivered a lot (despite multiple layers) and my back hurt.

Or the triple play I called (a first!).

Now it will include the blown tire.

That's baseball and road trips for ya.