A Day

 

How can I possibly assess today?

I can't.

Dickens wrote about the best of times and the worst of times. That might suffice.

The best? Two broadcasts that made me quite happy. 

First, it was hockey as the Connecticut Roughriders beat the Connecticut Chiefs 3-2 on a late goal. There was something that felt almost professional about the whole operation while the game was at an old favorite place of mine.

I've called many games at Terry Conners Rink dating back probably 23 years. So there's a feeling of nostalgia. The last time I was there it was enormously awkward (weird post-HAN days, don't ask) so it was nice to simply call a game with no drama.

Except, my phone was blowing up with stuff that made me wonder if I'd actually still be working for WGCH to call the second game.

I'm sort of proud of myself for settling down enough to actually call the hockey game without the other nonsense boiling over.

Yet, there I was several hours later, calling Greenwich's 28-14 heard-earned win over Stamford.

On WGCH. As I've done for a long time.

Me. With others. In basically the same format.

See, I'm not new to this. I sort of know what I'm doing.

WGCH went on the air 59 years ago today. I've been there for 26 of them. But what do I know about a sports broadcast?

And hours later, there still might be glimpses of smoke coming out of my ears.

Look, let me make this clear: don't disrespect me. That's the basic version right there. I literally don't care who you are.

There have been too many times over 54 years of life and 26 years at WGCH (or anywhere else for that matter) where it's simply been too easy to just sort of ignore me. 

Or dump on me.

"The nice guy" or whatever.

Well, the nice guy is literally still furious.

The nice guy cares about that radio station and that broadcast and that relationship and anything else.

But when the nice guy stops caring, that's when you should worry.

Today, the nice guy was trying to establish a new relationship with a new team when the phone rang.

Shame on me for taking the call because it was clear I had a bus running over my body. It was a complete attempt to go over my head.

And there's arguably no worse disrespect than that.

"Sports Director?" Hah.

But at the end of the day, everyone got what they wanted.

And I'm still steaming angry.

I'm hoping when I look back on today I'll simply focus on two very solid broadcasts.

And not the nagging, the insults, and the disrespect.

Chris Erway gets an assist for making me laugh and taking me out after it was all over.

Shawn Sailer gets a nod for caring enough to check on me.

Susan gets a nod because nobody cares more.

Oh, and I was dropped on social media by someone because I'm not an enabler.

What a day.

We'll just move on to tomorrow.

Gotcha

 

Today, as I wrote this post

It was Sep 13, 2020. 

A Sunday.

I had a Little League game to call in Bridgeport.

It was also just nine days after Mom died. It was also nine days after I met a black cat. Name of Binx.

Binx -- that name would never last -- and I drove home that same night.

Sep 13, 2020

He meowed for the entire drive. That's roughly 50 miles and over an hour of listening to him. I tried everything to get him to relax but, let's face it, I get it. 

He was in a moving car with someone he'd barely met. He was scared.

He immediately went into hiding when we got to Mahopac. Sean and I still laugh at how he hid under a cart in the dining room. We'd never seen a cat get that small.

All efforts to get this now-unnamed cat to chill out were fruitless. It would take time.

Sunday turned to Monday. Nothing.

Tuesday. Still nothing.

In fact, very little signs existed of him eating the food I left out for him.

This cat, who was supposed to be coming to us to help us in the days after Mom died, was a ghost. We'd spot him behind the couch and, eventually, tucked under a desk.

Finally, on Wednesday, I scattered some food in the office where the desk was. He came out long enough to eat it and quickly retreated.

As much as I wanted to pet him, I ignored him.

Later on, he decided this strange new world with these two men wasn't so bad. He came out and began to explore.

Eventually, he was on my bed.

Oct 2020

Excuse me. His bed.

Soon he'd become a daily part of our lives. 

And a pain in the backside at that. I'm happy to say the 4 a.m. battle to feed him has migrated to after 5 a.m.

But we laugh a lot with the cat we renamed Rascal. Of course, that's just one name. "Squeaky," "Beast," "Walter," and some others get thrown around.

He amuses us. That's for sure.

While we haven't become the "crazy cat people" that I think some think we (I) are, we do have fun with the dynamic. Sean will often chide me for buying Rascal treats or whatever else he thinks is "spoiling the cat."

But, believe me, he'll spoil him also.

I have a long history of cats in my life, from Morris when I was young through Bandit and Fred. After Fred disappeared I felt I might be done. Then Chico came here for the final four years of his life. A few months after Chico passed, we lost Mom and the concern was that the house would feel very lonely.

Thus, my niece and her husband felt we should bring their Binx here.

When I first met him he was a bit of a food hog. The night I met him he showed interest in my chicken parm dinner. Since he's been here, eating our food has not been an issue. 

Back in Bridgeport, Rascal also lived with his brother, Wilson. He's the king here. He seems to prefer being in a home with no other animals.

And we're blessed to have a landlord who took a chance on allowing us to bring him here since that's a huge issue in the rental world.

Sep 13, 2020

But here he is. He eats, sleeps, watches the world from his tower and various windows, walks around and begs for treats, and keeps us laughing.

And he yells at us.

He's been a perfect companion. My lifestyle has never been right for a dog but this goofy cat has been a great answer.

It's three years now since he arrived. Tonight, he'll probably sleep under my bed (makes no sense) and stir if I get out of bed anytime after 5 a.m.

But before then, we have a special chicken brother treat for him. 

Happy Gotcha Day, Beast.

People Do Listen

 

It was the first soccer game of the new season for Brunswick.

The first Brunswick broadcast of any kind for me since May.

It was a new setup. I'm now across the field from the fans and teams. I'm off all alone on the opposite side, underneath the scoreboard. That's where the LocalLive camera is and that's where I plug my audio in.

There were growing pains like not enough cable to stand in a comfortable position and I wish I had brought a chair with me. Things get a bit sore when I stand for that long.

Ah but so be it. Call the game.

Technically, it all worked. Audio came through and, after a few adjustments, sounded good. Video looked sharp which was no surprise. I found out at halftime that our good friend A.J. was on the controls so I was in good hands.

Brunswick was the better team but couldn't convert until the 79th minute. King tried but simply couldn't penetrate an outstanding Brunswick defense.

In the end, it was Brunswick 1, King 0.

A successful opening day for sure.

I packed up, having baked in the late afternoon sun. I considered the things that I needed to make this run better. Maybe a longer audio cable and power cord to get me to a spot where I can lean against the fence. Maybe better binoculars to be able to see the far side of the field from the ground-level setup I have.

I'm always trying to be better.

At the same time, I still have a voice in me saying that I have no business broadcasting soccer alone -- or at all. Yet here I am anyway.

I pulled everything together, loaded it onto a luggage trolley that I've had for years, and began making my way toward my car. I walked a different way and was concerned I'd wind up fenced-in.

Then a Brunswick player came trotting over from the other side of the field.

"Hi, are you Rob Adams?" he said.

I always try to be invisible. Yes, I'd be happy to know the players but, lately, it just seems to be difficult for whatever reason, so the coach -- any coach -- becomes the conduit.

"Yes," I said.

"I'm Johnny Saunders. Thank you so much for being here today. We're really excited to have you calling our games."

I was flabbergasted. Before I had a chance to react, I saw another player trot over. Co-captain Tyler Quake came over to say hello.

We talked about the game (I'm always digging for nuggets for the broadcast) and how head coach Danny Simpson was feeling.

In short, they were pleased with their performance and with the win. As any team does, they knew they could be better.

I thanked them both profusely. They'd just played a 90-minute soccer match on a hot day and had every right to be exhausted. Heck, they could have found me in the parking lot or waited until another game.

But these two wonderful people ran over to meet the weird old dude who is their broadcaster.

Blessed was the only word I could come up with.

I just think I have a marginal impact on the audience if I have any impact at all. The parents. The grandparents. I figure if they're not muting me or criticizing me then it's all good. My radar is always up so when I'm approached I'm on guard.

I'm reminded of the reaction from the Trumbull Babe Ruth team and how they all thanked me.

Again, I just think I'm invisible. A voice, maybe.

I walked to my car (I wasn't fenced in) and thought about how they could possibly know me. Yet I guess students sometimes watch the games and hear my name somehow. Let's face it, I do a lot of games at Brunswick and will do so again this year.

I joke a lot about being "a big deal." I never actually think I'm that. Chris Erway tries to get me to think that way sometimes with "The A-Team" bravado, but I'm just me. A nobody.

Thanks, Johnny and Tyler, for coming over today. I'm grateful.

And thank you for not calling me "Mr. Adams." He's hopefully got some kind of celestial internet connection and he's learning the sport of soccer from me.

The week is growing. With this game out of the way, I'll pivot to hockey. Yes, ice hockey. I have to go to Stamford tomorrow to check on connectivity to help with broadcasts for a junior hockey team, the Connecticut Roughriders. If all goes well, I'll call their game Thursday morning at 11:30. If that goes well, I'll serve as a play-by-play announcer there moving forward wherever I can jump in.

Then later on Thursday is Stamford/Greenwich football on WGCH.

On Friday, I'll head to Cheshire Academy for Brunswick's opening football game. Unfortunately, I'll be alone this year (there's a story here) unless things change. We can only control what is in our own hands and adjust. Chris Erway won't be with me to get a senior discount on coffee at Dunkin Donuts.

Finally, I've picked up a Saturday football broadcast, as Stepinac hosts DePaul Catholic.

Oh, and if the Renegades win their playoff series against Jersey Shore, I'll head back to the stadium for public address duties on Sunday. They lost tonight so Thursday's game is everything. Then they have to win again on Friday.

Then back to soccer on Monday at Brunswick.

Where the players are happy I'm there.

That's really cool.

September 11, 2023

 

A day that was caked in melancholy has just gone to the bizarre (that's about sports).

September 11. Do we need to recap it? It's still shocking and sad 22 years later.

So, with that in mind, I was looking forward to a good Monday Night Football game between the Jets and Bills.

Josh Allen against Aaron Rodgers, who was making his debut with the Jets.

And Rodgers left the game injured not even four minutes in.

Just awful for Jets fans.

But let's circle back to this morning.

My focus on this morning's September 11 Greenwich Remembrance Ceremony was to narrate, honor those lost, and stay out of the way.

I still find September 11 incredibly sad and poignant. I was determined to anchor our coverage on WGCH honorably.

I was told to get there around 8 a.m. but I decided against that. I wanted to be there earlier to get a feel for the situation.

I pulled into Cos Cob Park just after 7:30. My thinking was that I wanted to try for a parking spot as opposed to lugging equipment from further away or -- worse -- riding a shuttle bus.

Of course, just as I walked in, I saw News 12 was allowed to drive all the way to the parking lot where the ceremony would take place. WGCH should have the same opportunity and perhaps we'll look into that next year.

As a side note, we need to up our visibility and that's a conversation I had later in the morning.

In any event, I was able to setup to the left of the podium with a thank you to those who were in charge of the morning.

I had my usual reservations about setting up, connectivity, being in the right place, how it would sound, and giving listeners an appropriate broadcast. In this case, I'm working for News Director Tony Savino and I don't want to let him down.

So there I was, standing near some of the dignitaries in attendance as well as others from town. Prior to 8:46, there was a jovial atmosphere of community among everyone.

As everyone was told to take their seat, the mood changed to that of reverence and silence.

I opened the broadcast by setting the scene and using my -- you guessed it -- play-by-play skills before turning it over to the ceremony and commenting only to narrate.

The ceremony was sad and inspiring and fierce. Connecticut Governor Ned Lamont delivered particularly strong words.

I'm proud to say the broadcast seemed to go the way we wanted it to on the air.

I will not deny that it's an emotional job in which personal emotions need to be squelched as best as possible. That doesn't mean I didn't feel something as the 32 names with a Greenwich connection were read.

As the bagpipe led attendees to the nearby memorial, I wrapped up, packed up, and walked away.

It was a meaningful experience.

#NeverForget

*****

The phone buzzed a bit after that.

I'm only going to say don't be surprised if I'm calling hockey (yes!) sometime this week to go along with two football games.

Plus soccer tomorrow thanks to today's thunderstorms.

Oh, and conversations about podcasts, show guests, sponsors, and more.

This, basically, all happened before 11 this morning.

Looks like it's going to be quite a week.

Season's Over

 

It was after 7 p.m. when I pulled the car onto New York Route 9D south.

We drove away from Heritage Financial Park towards Interstate 84 East to come home.

For now, my Renegades season is over.

Oh, I could be back there next Sunday on the public address microphone if the Gades can beat Jersey Shore and advance to the South Atlantic League Championship. Their best-of-three series with the BlueClaws begins Tuesday night in south Jersey. 

They then come to Dutchess County beginning Thursday for Game 2 and the deciding Game 3 on Friday. As I have football on those nights, I'll miss the fun.

So, yeah, as of now, my season is over.

Let me focus on the positives.

I do public address announcing for the Renegades first and foremost because of family. Sean and Lori are both there and I love being able to hang around them. Beyond that are people who feel like family. That's the people I share a booth with and the people around the ballpark I've come to know. That's Murph and Clicks and Beats and Anthony and Richard and Jason and anyone else I've forgotten.

Obviously, that's also the people who are part of the team from day to day like Rick Zolzer and Zach Neubauer, both of whom championed me for staying on as a PA announcer. Then there's the man we'll just call "Fish" because the guy makes me laugh as well as being a bit of a sounding board. He serves as, dare I say, a perfect consigliere.

Plus Feldman. That's all you need. OK, Steve Feldman, who I graduated from high school with and was on the field all season. He served as the oldest batboy in the league and we egged the crowd on to cheer his every move.

Sean has his coworkers on the broadcast side, from the remarkably talented Sam Eisenbaum to the camera people and graphics and replay and the voices who present it all. Sure, my heart is still with that group. I won't lie. But life presents you with different opportunities and, well, that's where I am.

I can't possibly forget Luis Flores, who runs the Renegades Team Store, or Jamie Goerke who tirelessly ran game day promotions and programming.

This is all led by Gades' GM Tyson Jeffers and myriad others. I apologize for not naming everyone.

There are things I can learn from this season that will make me better.

I was asked not long ago about returning and I said I'd come back if wanted. I do it because of Sean and Lori and my friends and, of course, baseball.

Fish (right) with Rascal and Rosie, the newly-engaged mascots

I mean, I get to work in a minor league stadium where I can basically roam as I'd like, and get to be a complete goofball on a microphone. I've grown in that regard. At my best, I'm loose and firing off one-liners. At my worst, I'm probably a stale professional public address announcer.

There is a big thrill to saying something that gets, sometimes, thousands of people to respond.

Plus there are great fans who sit outside of our window and we get to interact with them.

Oh, and did I mention I've been a broadcaster and a public address announcer for a team affiliated with the New York Yankees? Like, the boyhood dream basically had some reality to it? Beyond that, I get to watch the players who will play in Yankee Stadium.

So, yeah, despite anything, I'm planning to do it again next year, hopefully with a schedule that isn't as ridiculous as this one was. To be clear, I'm the reason the schedule was nuts. Between Brunswick, Trumbull, and whatever else, I was constantly adjusting. Special thanks to Zolz and Zach for putting up with me.

The worst part is the drive by far. I love the Hudson Valley. It will forever be my homeland. But when you drive it that much it gets a bit stale and those nights heading home from Wappingers Falls can be a drag. So, sure, that's a downside and I often think about staying up there sometimes. For now, we can put that to rest until 2024.

I could be back there next Sunday. Otherwise, thanks Gades. See you soon.

*****

The Great Tire Caper of 2023 has concluded. I got to the tire place early this morning and was their first customer. I was gone within two hours. They tried to fix the tire again but, ultimately, I needed a new one. So it goes. At least I felt safe driving in the rain that we had today.

*****

I will be on WGCH sometime after 8:30 tomorrow morning to host our coverage of the September 11 ceremony live from Cos Cob Park. It will be an emotional affair and I'm honored that Tony Savino has entrusted me with this. I hope you'll tune in.

The New Voiceover Star

 

The pre-broadcast game faces of Shawn Sailer, me,
Sean Adams, Dan Murphy, and Chris Erway

The first Greenwich football game of 2023 is in the books and it ended just like the last game of last year.

Greenwich 35, Fairfield Prep 21. Different score but same result.

Greenwich's defense looked insane and their offense and special teams had a few hiccups but still played well. 

In short, the Cardinals look outstanding again.

If I had to guess, Chris and I better keep our calendars open for the playoffs but, let's be honest, it's one game.

But, finally, we got to take the wraps off of the theme to open the broadcast.

Now, understand that the music hasn't changed. It's what we've used since before I started at WGCH. It's become fairly iconic.

But the words change. Generally, sponsors have changed.

A few years ago, we started using game highlights and those have changed.

And the voice reading the sponsors and welcoming listeners has changed as well. Some years, it was Bob Small. Mike Hirn did it for a year. I'm sure my voice has been heard as well.

You can listen to the broadcast of today's game here. The opening is at the beginning of the audio.

Effective today, Sean Adams is the voice that welcomes listeners to Greenwich Cardinals football.

It was one of my ideas though I didn't think it would fly. Yet, when I suggested it to Bob, he was all for it.

I didn't think Sean would go for it but he was intrigued. So, with me sitting nearby, he read the script. I think he did it in two takes.

He says he'd like to re-record it but I'm not sure it will be necessary.

I told no one. Bob knew because I sent it to him. Sean and I obviously both knew. But no one else.

So with a wonderful booth of friends today, we prepared to listen to what I had for them.

Kudos to Dan Murphy and Shawn Sailer -- as well as Sean and Chris Erway, of course -- for making this opening day simply exceptional.

As a father, I can't be more proud than to have my son introducing me. It's been a special path that we have forged with him following me into a surprising media career. I'm astounded at my son -- who's not a sports fan -- participating like this as a cameraman, studio operator, and now voiceover talent.

I was exceedingly proud to hear that opening -- as well as the closing -- on these broadcasts that have been so important to my life.

The day had its ups and downs, with a weather delay making us scramble a bit for a half-hour. Whether I'm actually on the air or not, I'm still in "radio mode" for the entirety of the broadcast, delay included. So it was for 3.5 hours today. 

But I also represent WGCH and, in some ways, the school and town off the air, so I'm mindful of that when interacting with fans as we did at the pregame tailgate.

I also count the good fortune of having many people stop us to say hello and catch up as we walked around the stadium. We are anything but a big deal but these interactions allow us to believe that we actually matter and we're grateful.

That doesn't mean we'll always be agreed with. There was a penalty on a pretty fierce hit during the game and I expected blowback from someone over how Chris and I handled that moment. It comes with the territory and I doubt we'd change our approach but we all know how social media is.

It was a fairly long day but we're home and we'll be ready for game two. A quick turnaround awaits as Stamford comes to Cardinal Stadium on Thursday night. Assuming all is well, our pregame show begins at 5:50 p.m.

We'll be there.

Oh, and I have to go get my tire looked at. Again.

We'll deal with that in the morning.

Then, quite likely my last Renegades game of the year. The team mascot, Rascal (not my cat) got engaged to his friend Rosie the Skunk today. 

I'm a sucker for romance.

What Year is it?

 

It's Connecticut's turn.

There were a few football games in the state last night.

More are scheduled for tonight though the heat and thunderstorms are messing with those plans.

But I'm listening to Jeff Alterman and Sawyer Nicholas (and now Mike Buswell) on the TEN Network as they call Trumbull/Hamden and the season is rolling.

Here, it's almost time.

Roughly 16 hours.

Fairfield Prep at Greenwich.

I'm trying to figure out how to view this season, not that it matters. You see, my first Cardinals football broadcast was in late 1999 when I was a sideline reporter (against Fairfield Prep). Does that mean, if you do the math, that this is my 25th year?

Is it 24 because I became the lead play-by-play announcer in 2000?

But then, do we subtract 2020 due to COVID, even though I did do one of the 7-on-7 games that year?

And then, what about HAN Network? I did two years there, including some GHS games.

So, yeah. Twenty-five then?

I guess it's all in how you look at it. Either way, I suppose it's an achievement to have that kind of consistency though I often think it's held against me in that some think I'm "the Greenwich guy." That's why the state ignores the work that we've done on WGCH (and elsewhere).

Actually, I'm "the guy who will show up and call any game" but, yeah, Greenwich is home.

Greenwich High and Brunswick.

And I'll do both once again. 

But, in truth, if I can get other games in, I'd do it. 

I could do the game right now. Despite all of the calls to be as prepared as possible, I've done what I can do. I have rosters for both teams but do I trust them? Not really but I won't until the game starts.

Will I feel better before 1:50 tomorrow afternoon? I hope so.

I've talked to the people I want to talk to. I'll talk to more tomorrow at Cardinal Stadium.

I'll get there at a time that I hope isn't too early but is certainly early enough to set up and feel comfortable. That will then allow me to visit the field, maybe even walk out to the tailgate, and take a deep breath.

Chris Erway and I will call the hell out of it, in part because we both feel a little challenged, and that's not something to do to us.

But I know me. I can still remember that first game when it was mine to be lead broadcaster in 2000. It was Norwalk at Greenwich and I was nervous. I knew the legacy that I was stepping into and I wanted to be good.

Now, all these years later, I can only hope I've upheld my part of that legacy.

But, again, I know me. I'll be nervous tomorrow. I always am before the first Greenwich football game.

They're good nerves for sure. Why me, to be honest? Why am I the one who has driven this bus for years? I don't want to screw it all up. I do honestly have to remind myself that I've earned this position.

Am I ready? Is the equipment good? Does the audience enjoy us? Are we giving enough detail? How does it all sound?

All of this -- and more -- will roll through my skull tomorrow.

I feel a responsibility. I feel I have to be good. Or better.

Right around 12:49 p.m. will be a tsunami of emotions with nervousness evaporating into pride.

Then? Start talking.

I want kids to hear us and say "I want to be like that."

Heck, I just heard today how we've essentially intimidated others simply through our broadcasts. 

Honestly, it's not the first time I've heard this but I don't like when it impacts what we do.

Can you imagine? Intimidating? Me?!

But it just makes us stronger. It's why we jokingly say "1-2-3 dominate" sometimes before a broadcast.

It's why friends ask to shadow us to watch us work.

The stars, however, will be the kids on the field. Always.

The coaches as well.

The game leads the way. Chris and I -- along with Sean Kilkelly in the studio -- are going to try to make it sound professional.

Across the way will be friends from Fairfield Prep. I'd hope that would be a long relationship there but they've decided to bring their broadcasts in-house and they like using students to lead the way. I have thoughts on that because I believe students should be trained to sound good. After all, they wind up representing their school. 

Either way, Prep has my number.

While I don't work for Greenwich High School, I know how we're viewed, like it or not.

So we'll represent Greenwich and Fairfield Prep well tomorrow. Because that's what we do.

Be listening for the pregame show at 1:50. Please.

Our last year -- from Greenwich/Newtown on Sep 9, 2022, until softball on Staten Island a few weeks ago, produced a wonderful number of broadcasts that I'm so proud of. I want that momentum to roll into this school year.

It's time. Finally.

Talk to you tomorrow as year 25 (maybe?) begins.

Screwed, Shoes, and Food

 

It's almost fall.

Almost.

That means football (the NFL kicked off tonight) and the World Series and autumn clothes and pumpkins and costumes and cooler temperatures (eventually) and...

Conferences.

I prepared to meet with Chris Hunt at the Hunt Scanlon offices this morning.

We get together roughly two weeks before any conference to have me do a read of the script. It's a fairly nerve-wracking experience in which I stumble through words that I should never stumble through along with words that I should.

OK, it's actually not that nerve-wracking but I'm internally all over myself. If anything, we are pretty loose but professional during the process. 

There are almost always challenging names and companies and concepts that I might be unfamiliar with. So we do the read and I head on my way. The speech then gets tweaked a few times up to (and during) the conference.

But I had to get there this morning and all was well until, wait, what was that beep? Why was my car saying my tire needed air? How bad could it be?

I put my window down and listened. I could hear the whirring.

Uh oh.

I stopped near an office building just off Exit 4 of I-95. I got out and looked. The tire was, basically, flat.

Well, it was worth popping the trunk open as the sweat began to build.

I grabbed my portable air pump, plugged it into what us of a different generation call the cigarette lighter, and let it go to work.

It took a few minutes, and I was now running late (more sweat) but I was able to drive to the office.

It could have been much worse, given the hot and heavy air of this morning.

It played in the back of my mind as I tripped over my tongue in Chris Hunt's office.

I couldn't just go to the tire shop when left. Oh, no. There was a podcast to record and I was determined to honor the commitment!

So I made the short trip back home and recorded.

With that done, I jumped back in the car and went to Mavis Discount Tire. Fortunately, they took me in with minimal fuss.

I took a walk and got lunch. Within minutes of my return, the car was ready.

A screw got in the tire. Who knows where? My driveway? A road? The parking lot at Heritage Financial Park? It doesn't matter. The tire was fixed and I was on my way home.

I got back and got ready for "Doubleheader." Of course, I'm still preparing for Saturday at 2 p.m. on WGCH, when Greenwich hosts Fairfield Prep.

I will give you one quick note: I hope you listen to the opening, to be played at 1:50. I'm quite pleased with it. You'll understand perhaps after you hear it.

With the show over, I thought it felt like a good night to go out. It was time for me to get my binder to start the football season with.

Off to Port Chester I went to go to Staples. I figured a walk around Target and DSW to look at shoes was in order. Besides, DSW sent me a coupon. Plus it would allow me some exercise as night approached.

It took some looking I found a new binder. It's the same type as my previous one, in black, versus the one I had in blue. It's just flexible enough and small enough to fit in my backpack and works best for rosters and notes and all of the other things I'm supposed to spend countless hours on per game*.

*It helps if you have rosters. Currently, I have one for Saturday. Rosters, people. I can't stress it enough.

One other football note: I very much considered doing a game on my own tomorrow night. I talked myself out of it after giving it some thought. We'll start fresh on Saturday. With the new opening that I'm excited for you to hear..

After the binder, I went to DSW which was in a certain level of disarray, much like Staples was. It is, after all, the first week of school and stores need some time to recover. But I did find something to my liking and, with a coupon taking thirty dollars off, I walked out with a rare (for me) shoe purchase. 

Which is good. It's time to up my game a little.

I wasn't done with my adventures. We needed a few things around the apartment, including dinner. Wegmans was a five-minute drive away so I ran there to grab what was needed, including a chicken quesadilla to eat.

Finally, I was back home.

With the tire light back on.

Hey, it could always be worse. Heavy thunderstorms passed through Duchess County tonight and Sean said he's in the dark.

It's football season.

I'll deal with the tire tomorrow, if necessary.

Hopefully, my blood pressure doesn't pop like the tire might.

Let It Breathe

 

Rascal thinks it's too hot.

I just got home from handling public address duty for the Renegades.

I had fun and did my job and saw friends and, of course, Sean. Oh, and Lori too. And Mark Jeffers and Dave Torromeo. Mission accomplished.

Baseball-wise, it wasn't great. Look, I love low-scoring ballgames. The Gades lost 2-0 in front of an announced crowd of 1,549.

It's difficult to find energy when the temperature was listed at 84 degrees at first pitch and, let's be honest, it was decidedly warmer than that..

So it was just one of those nights where, despite everyone's best efforts, things just didn't click. We all tried but, meh.

There's a saying that's used when we're going to lay low in certain circumstances. For example, if one of the between-inning games isn't happening, we say we're going to "let it breathe."

That just means we'll run some music but there really aren't any elements. 

It's a fairly common term that essentially means "lay low."

That's sort of what I'm feeling here tonight.

I'm going to lay low with a quick post considering I got home around 11 p.m.

Tomorrow is meetings, a podcast recording, and more preparation for Saturday. I'm trying to gather everything, including rosters. It's not as easy as you might think.

Friday is more of the same.

"Doubleheader" will be on both days.

Then comes Saturday. Fairfield Prep/Greenwich at 2 p.m. Everything will be new and fresh as it's finally opening day. I will also be on pins and needles until kickoff.

On Sunday, we'll close out the regular season for the Renegades. Tonight was fun despite the loss. I'm hoping Sunday will be a great way to finish. Incidentally, the Gades are in the playoffs beginning next week (get tickets!). I won't be on PA duty unless they make it to the championship series beginning on the 17th.

So, yeah, a lot of things will be going on.

And I feel sort of tapped out in terms of talking.

Or maybe I just think I should stay quiet.

Your mileage may vary.

So we'll let it breathe tonight.

Waffles and Indignation

 

Benson, NC, Aug 2023

First off, and completely random, happy birthday to the GOAT.

Waffle House, of course. 

The first location opened on this day at 2719 East College Avenue in Avondale Estates, Georgia. 

No, I don't know that fact by heart.

That first location is now a museum and it needs to be a quest to visit it. It's outside of Atlanta so I could go see a Braves game (they have a Waffle House concession stand in the stadium) and go see the original shrine, I mean, location.

*****

I don't want this summer to end.

I mean, it's been a blast. It's been an overstuffed calzone-type of fun. Truly, my cup has runneth over and there are still a couple of things to get to before this summer is put to rest completely.

However, can we talk about the heat?

Yuck. That's my statement.

OK, more to the point, I was fairly content with the upper 70s/low 80s during the day and the upper 50s/low 60s at night that we had a few days ago. I mean, open the windows, turn on the fans, and embrace it all!

But we're back in the 90s. It's in the 80s right now.

At 9:24 p.m.

I had put away my air conditioner. I took it back out last night. My electric company will be pleased.

Oh well. It will be cold before we know it and I'll be firmly miserable, so I'll take the heat, I guess.

Even with the high temperatures, Sean and I took a walk into town tonight. It was nice to get the heart pumping and we enjoyed ourselves.

It also gave me some time to grumble to him along with laughing.

The last few days haven't exactly had me fired up for the '23 football season. As I've written, it will pass, and you better believe I'll be fine on Saturday at 1:50 on WGCH.

If not sooner.

But there does come a point where you just feel the outlet you work for -- or even yourself -- has been disrespected and overlooked too many times.

There's also a point where you look in the mirror and say, "It's me."

While it's tempting to just dive in head first and speak my mind, I won't do that tonight. I'll just say opportunities that I think we deserve just roll on by.

It gets a bit depressing after a while.

So that's all. Not to bring things down. Just allowing myself a moment.

I'm just truly proud of most of the work that we've done at every outlet since I started in the business. But I hate what it does to us at times.

With that, I'll plunge back into preparing for Saturday at 1:50, which will air on WGCH.

*****

I was just told by a reader that they were surprised that I didn't mention the passing of Jimmy Buffett here. In truth, I've gotten better at withholding my strong musical opinions (don't worry, Maroon 5 still blows) and I was truly never a big fan. I did, however, see Huey Lewis, Paul McCartney, and several others offer glowing tributes. He seemed like a truly good man with a fanbase that adored him.

But that's the thing about certain fanbases. There's a cult-like quality to some that makes it unattractive to outsiders. A certain snobbery I suppose. That, sadly, can dilute the music.

But Jimmy Buffett seemed like a cool guy.

A tip of the margarita to Jimmy Buffett for many cheeseburgers in paradise. A good time was had by all.

On September 4th

 

With Roxy

It was 9:55 a.m. on Friday.

Sep 4, 2020.

It was a beautiful morning. Warm with a clear sky.

I was scheduled to call Little League Baseball that night as sports tried to survive in the middle of the year of COVID.

But at 9:55 a.m. on Friday morning, Sep 4, 2020, I was stepping onto the front steps of the house to meet with an EMT technician who confirmed what I already knew: my mother had died.

In hindsight, the signs were there. You can go all the way back to her open heart surgery in 2013 as a starting point if you want.

Then came the beginning of the kidney problems in late 2017. However, she remained strong, even being able to drive herself to dialysis at times.

By late 2019, there were concerning signs, and, the following January, she went into the hospital. She'd move to another hospital before heading to a nursing home for a stint. She stayed there all of one night (completely miserable) before coming home. She stayed there for less than a week before going into another nursing home. 

She came out in March -- and we drove away as the world began to shut down. I think about that often.

She didn't drive much, even though she had me take her to Peekskill to buy a car. But I was to chauffer her around in that. 

In truth, despite fighting the title, I was her caretaker. I just always thought of her as too independent to need a caretaker. I wasn't alone -- my sister was right alongside me, along with my niece, Sean, and others.

Holding court with some of her grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren at 
Sean's graduation party, 2020

Yeah. There were signs. She made it to Sean's graduation from high school as well as his party in the backyard. She looked great and enjoyed visiting with everyone. Then she made it to her granddaughter's wedding outside of Albany that August where she was a rock star. But she also had to leave Albany the morning after the wedding to go get dialysis. That was her fourth treatment that week, which was unusual.

Two days later, she told me that she would be backing down from traveling. We had discussed doing something that fall and she decided to not go.

On her last day, she had two doctor's appointments, including a cardiologist visit. He told her her heart was failing. Badly.

Time was short but none of us thought it would end the following morning.

Three years have gone by. The process has been agonizing at times but we've simply had to move on. The first couple of times Sean and I traveled were awkward. The ghost in the car was a strong presence. The lack of a hand coming from the back seat asking us if we had any garbage was noticeable.

Sean has mentioned that there are times he still expects to have her reach for his arm to escort her through a parking lot.

We've adjusted of course. For me, it was like starting to live again, especially once the house was sold and we moved.

There's no question we miss her laugh and her joy. Oh, there were downsides, and the end was difficult, but we'd trade it all. 

There will always be stories to tell. Good and bad and that's just how it was. We told the stories.

2014

For me, I think I lean on the happy times of traveling, especially to North Carolina. Those became really precious times for her with Sean and we made a lot of good memories. We drove through Washington, DC on our first trip and it allowed her to share with Sean how she honeymooned there with my father. She was particularly happy to go to the Marine Corps Memorial in Arlington, VA with him.

And I'll always recall the Father's Day when we drove to Pennsylvania for a Waffle House breakfast and ate in the car due to COVID. We'd drive around that day to various places and she was content to stay in the back seat.

As we drove back through New Jersey, I had this sense that I should pull off into Butler, the town her family lived in when she was young. She told me the address and we found the house.

I choked back tears as I told her I thought she should show her childhood home to her grandson.

My suspicion was sadly correct. She never visited again.

If she's watching over us, I hope she'll forgive us for the myriad times Sean and I make fun of her for one thing or another. It's that humor that is the closest either of us comes to grieving.

In fact, I've still never grieved.

So we laugh instead and we do things to honor her.

We're going to have pizza today in her honor.

She'd like that.

The memories of Sep 4, 2020 live on. 

I went and called that baseball game, encouraged by literally everyone I spoke to. They felt it was, in fact, the place I belonged.

It allowed me to honor her by keeping a commitment. That was something my parents firmly believed in. It also allowed me to take a moment and talk about her during the broadcast.

Further, it put me close to family, whom I gathered with later on for dinner. And it was there that I met a black cat.

Funny how things work out.

Life, truly, has gone on. We continue to honor her.

Things are just different.

A few days after Mom died I settled in to eat breakfast at home. The house was quiet and I decided I wanted some music, so I asked Alexa to play some jazz. The first song -- at least that's how I recall this story -- was "Nancy (with the Laughing Face)."

I couldn't make it up.

Your "partners in crime" will raise a slice of pizza later to you, Mom.

Aug, 2020

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

 

 Burning Man in Nevada (Photo: Trevor Hughes, USA TODAY)

Let's see, what do we have for you tonight?

- I'm looking for a new binder for the new season. Every couple of years, I have to replace my trusty binder that holds my notes and scorecards throughout the season. I've probably had 10 of them since 1999. However, our visit to Staples here in Greenwich (Riverside) wasn't particularly fruitful. The Staples website, however, says I should go back because I looked in the wrong place apparently.

This is nothing major. I could likely make do with the one I currently have. But I guess I'll be going back to Staples anyway.

- We were going to go from Staples into Stamford to visit Buffalo Wild Wings for lunch since we have a gift card courtesy of our friends at Trumbull Babe Ruth. However, we spotted Sally's Apizza nearby and my eyes widened.

While I've had Pepe's, I've never been to the main location in New Haven. For that matter, I've never been to any of the pizza places New Haven is famous for.

So, yeah, it's inauthentic to some, but we went to Sally's in Stamford anyway. And we've been to Pepe's at Mohegan Sun and in Danbury and Fairfield.

Anyway, what did I think? It was great, just as I've enjoyed Pepe's in the past.

But it isn't better than my favorites (Sal's and Joe and Pat's and others). It was also, as I called it, "Treatza," because it wasn't cheap.

But it was very good and I'd say we will likely be back because we do take our pizza seriously.

That being said, New York pizza is still my thing. 

- I'm watching the Yankees game and my goodness, it's nice. The Bombers have enjoyed their weekend in Houston. No, I'm not delusional. It's fun to watch, no question.

Yes, Jasson Dominguez hit a clutch home run to put them in control tonight, but I have no intention of erecting a statue yet. Nobody is going to retire his number or carve the plaque for Monument Park. There isn't a "Yankeeography" in the works yet. 

But in a season that has been miserable, I will take what Dominguez and the other "kids" are doing. 

- I did some of the pregame work for Saturday's football season opener. I created the promo yesterday that will run on WGCH all week. Today, I put together the opening and closing elements for the broadcast. 

It will likely never air. At least not as I created it tonight.

Why? Because I'm the narrator and it's awkward to hear me introduce myself. So Bob Small will likely be called in unless I can get someone else to voice it. However, if nothing happens between now and Saturday, I have one prepared to run.

Preparation, indeed.

A few years ago, we started using some highlights in the opening as a way of pumping up listeners. I grabbed a fresh group of highlights for this one and it's always a bittersweet ride. With each highlight, there is a different memory of where we were, the game itself, or the fun we had.

Yes, this is work and we work hard but it still has to be fun. I'm hoping this year will be.

- As the night comes to a close (the Yankees just wrapped up a three-game sweep in Houston) I'm once again looking at potential travel plans. I've thought a few times about how this summer has been one of my favorites ever. As I told Sean, I sort of don't want it to end but one more adventure might be the perfect way to end it.

I'll add more details as we approach it.

But, again, my nose is in my computer as I scroll through hotels that can hold the four people who will be participating in this sojourn.

Oh yeah. 

- I am fascinated by Burning Man, the festival that takes place in the Nevada Black Rock Desert. While it's completely not my style, I find the annual creation of a city on the playa to be so interesting.

But, man, 70,000 people are currently stranded there due to rain that has turned the playa into the worst imaginable quagmire (giggity)? No thanks.

To some, that's fun and all part of the experience. To me? Nope.

I see the images coming out there and am reading the stories of people walking -- in quicksand-type mud -- upwards of six miles to get back to the main road. 

Respectfully, no thank you, but again, this isn't my style. Thus I watch and read from the comfort of my (steamy) apartment bedroom.

One death has been reported and is being investigated. 

I'm all for the fun and creativity of Burning Man. 

I just hope these people get out safely with stories to tell.

Still Radio Gaga

 

At WGCH, Sep 2, 2023

Thirty-three years ago last night, I knocked on the door of WMJV-FM, colloquially known as "Majic 105."

I'd been to the studio a few nights earlier to get trained on the board and review any specifics of the station's format. The person who trained me -- air name John Harrison -- remains a dear friend all these years later.

Then, after a late dinner, I drove to the building just outside of Patterson, NY for my first air shift. I was prepared for the midnight to 6 a.m. shift with a thermos of hot coffee and NoDoz.

Thus, as Sep 2 began, I started my life in broadcasting. I had been hired to do the Saturday/Sunday overnight shift playing music on an adult contemporary FM station.

The DJ on the air let me into the building and asked if I wanted him to stay until I was settled in.

Nah. It was time to take off the training wheels.

Except, the first song came to an end and I wasn't ready to go on the air yet. I had a touch of stage fright.

The second song brought the same result.

I argued with myself. There were no rules about when I had to go on the air but I knew I'd have to eventually.

I knew I needed to flip the switch and turn up the rotary pot so that listeners could hear the new guy.

I came up with three scenarios:

1) Keep pressing play on the CD's for the next roughly six hours and go home. I might get fired. I might not.

2) Run, let the station go to dead air, and never look back. 

3) Turn on the mic and say something.

Obviously, I chose option three. I stumbled through my first time on the air and have been involved in broadcasting in some way almost ever since. I did have a stretch where I was out of the business after Majic 105 and I parted roughly a year later.

That served as a mighty lesson for me. The DJ on before me every Saturday night had a wicked ego and wasn't a big fan of me or John Harrison. He certainly didn't like that John and I were good friends. What he was, however, was tight with management. I was the first cut in the process of that battle.

The shame of it was we even had decent ratings. I know my audience was strong until around 2 a.m. every weekend. They'd call me and ask for requests and I mostly obliged. A few would even come and visit me in the studio, thus giving me a bit of a reprieve from the exhaustion I felt.

Again, it was an adult contemporary station so there were myriad ballads and soft rock hits of the early 90s on the air. I could also reach for a few older hits and that often regenerated me. However, while Whitney Houston was an amazing singer, she also had me reaching for the thermos of coffee.

Radio is far more formatted now. Most stations don't allow for drifting away from the playlist and it's generally all computerized. In my case, I had some latitude in which CD's I cued up to play. In fact, to help settle my nerves, I played "The Heart of Rock and Roll" by Huey Lewis and the News within my first hour on the air.

The hours from, say, 2 a.m. until 5 were the toughest. Sometimes I'd reach for a longer song -- think "Hotel California" or "American Pie" -- to walk around the station, use the restroom, and even step outside.

However, going outside wasn't always the best because Majic 105 was located in the woods off New York State Route 292. You were quite likely to have a deer looking in the windows at you.

But the radio bug also got its talons into me. John Harrison eventually began to work the shift following me and we decided that I should do a sports report every morning before I drove away. Of course, that led to us chatting sometimes until after 7.

Oh, and his then-girlfriend Simonetta worked the morning shift on the daytime AM shift in the next room. That room was empty during my shift since the station was off the air until she showed up. Sometimes, the hanging clock would just swing creepily, moved by the air conditioner from the grate a few feet above it. Indeed, the overnights got a bit lonely there. 

So, yeah, it was time to just talk to them before stumbling home and going on with my Sunday after a few hours of sleep.

Incidentally, John (and it feels weird calling him that) and Simonetta eventually married. They have two kids and live in Massachusetts.

I took my lumps in my first foray into radio. The politics, sure, but also the reality of critics and the exhaustion of the schedule as well. Yet I definitely loved it.

After my time at Majic ended, I stayed out of the business as I focused on going to college and working full-time during the day. Maybe radio wasn't for me after all?

Then I got a phone call from John. He had been offered an opening to do some fill-in work at WREF in Ridgefield.

"Thanks, but I'm going to pass," he said. "But I know a guy..."

I threw an audition tape together and was soon doing board-op work and occasional DJ shifts in Ridgefield. Among the things I ran the board for?

High School football. I kid you not.

But WREF would also go away, getting sold to the group that ran WLAD in Danbury at the time. Instead of thinking I had a potential full-time gig, I was now serving as an assistant general manager during the transition.

Two of my WREF colleagues -- Steve Goodwin and Luke Michaels -- told me not to worry. They worked at another radio station and they'd pass my name along.

As we closed up WREF, with me doing the last on-air shift (I didn't know anything about it but it was in a small sorry in the Ridgefield Press), I prepared for the next radio adventure.

I was offered a Sunday morning fill-in board op gig for the aforementioned Steve Goodwin.

On WGCH.

Where I've been for the past 26 years.

I loved playing music on Majic 105 and have had talks about maybe playing music again one day. 

However, I hope we all agree I found where I belonged: calling games on WGCH and everywhere else that this insane business has led me. Oh, I've done so many other things -- news anchor, reporter, election night correspondent, producer, engineer, and so on -- but sports will likely be what I'm remembered for.

I have countless moments of doubt, anger, disappointment, and befuddlement thanks to radio. 

I also have countless moments of joy, laughter, and shock that I get to do what I do.

For 33 years you -- the audience --  have graced me with kindness, praise, warmth, and support. You've even kicked me in the tail when I've needed it.

In return, I've tried to give you honesty, integrity, entertainment, accuracy, and authenticity.

We've become friends even if it's just through a radio or device.

It -- and you -- have enriched my life.

Thank you. Despite whatever doubts I deal with, I still love it.

Oh, and the NoDoz that night in 1990 was an absolutely awful decision. It was the only time I ever took that since my heart raced and I couldn't sleep I got home after my first shift.

Pre-Season Football Follies

 

Our "booth" at Choate Rosemary Hall last November

The buildup to high school football season always includes certain benchmarks and hiccups.

There's the anticipation of the sponsors and waiting for the team rosters and gathering the notes. There's the creation of game promos on the radio side and any in-game elements as well as the opening and closing reads.

There are plenty of details to dive into. Will we need space in the booth? What are the financial terms? Who's doing what games?

There's also the equipment. Are we using the stuff from WGCH or will we go with mine? Or both?

By next Saturday at 2 p.m. (preferably much earlier) I'm hoping everything is wrapped up and we're ready to go.

But there are roadblocks. Always.

Unfortunately, we can't just show up and talk.

When those issues get big enough, it's human nature to pause and wonder why I continue to go through it.

Oh, sure, I love it. You bet. Twelve hours earlier I was completely fired up and ready for the collection of broadcasts that await between now and December. I wanted it to begin tonight.

But, yeah.

I tweeted yesterday in a half-hearted way that I would be open to anyone needing a broadcast tonight. Obviously, I would have very seriously considered any offer.

We don't often get preseason broadcasts so it would have been a good warmup as well, since there are some games in New York tonight.

But I'm home with some of the previously mentioned items still to produce and addressing lingering frustrations.

I suppose one thing worth noting is that there are plenty who simply don't understand what we do. They don't quite get our value (if we have any). So we're easy to discard or even ignore.

So decisions don't always sit right. Then there's cleaning everything up.

And, sure, it produces some difficult feelings but I'd like to believe that a good night's sleep will start to fire me back up again.

In the end, the joy is in working with friends and telling stories on the air while laughing and continuing the experience that I've been a part of since 1999.

This feeling tonight will pass but it's annoying.

*****

A quick note on the passing of V. Donald "Chief" Hersam. Chief was the patriarch of the Hersam Acorn Newspaper empire and the father of my boss, Marty. He was a wonderful man of grace, humor, and class. A true gentleman and New Canaan legend, he told the best stories. He was also very supportive when we created what became the HAN Network.

My condolences to Marty and the Hersam family along with Chief's many friends and loved ones.

All I've Got is a Photograph

Father and son, circa 1969

We helped my sister wrap up a quick move today.

Quick as in she moved next door. Still, moving is never quick.

It's a time-honored tradition when people are available. I've helped myriad family and friends move around the Hudson Valley, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and even North Carolina. It doesn't make us special. It's just part of the tale.

Of course, I too have made a few moves, from Mahopac to, um, Mahopac, then on to Carmel, back to Mahopac, and (for now) to Greenwich.

The move here -- hurried as it was -- starred three people: me, my cousin Kris, and Sean.

Anyway, I digress, though my sister and I did recall the insanity of the departure from Mahopac last May. It can never be said enough how we pulled off the closing of our parents house of almost 60 years. We got an email in early May that we had to be out of the house by the closing on May 25th. Somehow, with mostly my sister and I doing the work (with some help from Sean and others), we were able to achieve that.

It was exhausting physically and mentally. I'm proud of us for getting it done but I think we're still both dealing with numerous scars from all of it.

Mental scars.

Again, I'm digressing. We moved the heavy items that Laura needed to be moved, set up her TV, grabbed lunch, and rolled back home. Sean and I agreed it was a good day and we were happy to help.

My back is a little grouchy tonight but it's worth it. I can always use that kind of physical activity.

She had a box full of photos for me that she rounded up in the process of packing. They stretched over most of my life with bountiful memories. In truth, many of them were copies of pictures I already own but that doesn't make the memories less sweet.

I came across lots of gems that stretched from the garish looks of the 70s to the styles of the 2000s.

There were glimpses of baseball games, my senior prom, and my high school graduation as well as birthday parties, holidays, and other slices of life.

Most of the time my smile stretched from a grin into a full guffaw.

Oh, my waistline also stretched and that's one analysis of the pictures I'd prefer to not think about.

But more precious are snaps of my parents, grandparents, cousins, friends, siblings, and nieces. There are also that are no longer in our lives.

The picture at the top of the post features an unsmiling me with my grinning father. I gathered it was taken in late 1969 and I don't appear to be too thrilled with the circumstances.

Three Generations, 1983

Taken in Florida in Feb 1983, I love this shot of me with my father and grandfather. I especially love seeing my father and I with our arms around each other. That was unusual. They'd both be gone just over six years later. We were on our way out to dinner that night and my grandparents met us at our hotel. I was fresh off an afternoon of swimming in the pool behind us, thus my hardly-coiffed hair.

With my grandmother, 1976

I adored my maternal grandmother. She lived in Dutchess County and was more likely to occasionally spend a week with us, sometimes sharing a room with me. She was what I considered the prototype for a grandmother, spoiling us to a point. She often endured my shock over her not caring that she got to visit the original Yankee Stadium and see the greats (Ruth, Gehrig, etc) play yet she couldn't have cared less. My grandfather -- he died long before I was born -- was a baseball fan. As you can tell in the picture, so am I. Incidentally, it's not entirely clear in this Polaroid that I'm also about to blow out the candles on a Fred Flinstone cake.

With Kris, late 70s.

I'm guessing this picture in front of a Christmas tree with Kris was taken sometime in the late 1970s. Even then we were like brothers and it's pretty amazing that we still are. Who knows what made me make that nutty face?

Mom and Sean, 2018

Among the most poignant pictures were a couple of Sean and my mom. Her passing really had a profound impact on him and he was just talking with my sister and me about the event where this picture was taken. This was in North Carolina at my niece's wedding in 2018 and the reason he loves that wedding so much is that he had a great time with Mom. I gave him this picture along with a couple of others, including one just two years later on the day of his graduation from high school. The difference is stark. Time, friends. Hug and love those around you.

In that same regard, I've shared it before, so I won't post it here, but the picture of my dad and me on the day of my graduation from high school is incredibly sad. It was also in this box of photos. He didn't go to my graduation for a few reasons, primarily his own physical health (he suffered intense pain from arthritis). While I'm smiling in my cap and gown, his face shows sadness over the situation. It's tough to look at. Let's keep this post full of happy photos tonight.

We'll finish with this goofy kid in the late 1970s on what is probably Christmas Morning. It's not easy to see, but my pajamas have road signs on them. Yup. Even then.

I'd Really Like You to Read This

 

When you are creative and put your work out for the world to see, you're hoping people will somehow invest in it.

In my case, that means writing day after day. It means creating radio shows and game broadcasts and putting things on social media and hosting conferences and podcasts and doing anything else that I do.

Often, I don't know what the feedback is and, to be honest, I don't crave it. I don't look for comments and pats on the back and criticism. I don't know who listens to the WGCH broadcasts or watches LocalLive. I get statistics for Robcasting but I generally don't worry about them because most of the broadcasts are simulcast to another outlet and there's also an archive.

In short, I don't get a lot of metrics.

I do, however, get to see numbers for the blog every day. Unfortunately.

Sometimes, it's an indictment of the time of year. School is back or getting ready to come back. A few are fitting in one last summer getaway. So finding time to read my nonsense isn't a priority.

So, frankly, it's sometimes me. It's what I wrote and whatever I wrote wasn't exactly the top beef. It's been sort of flank steak. Hardly my best work.

The last four posts haven't landed at all. I thought the one about Veteran's Night with the Renegades would but I was wrong. So it goes. 

But I feel for anyone who does put heart and soul out there and, in many cases, is hoping their work sells. Many take that stuff personally. Whether it's words or music or broadcasts or some other kind of art, we view this stuff like they're kids.

Painting. Photography. Cooking. Music. Talking. Writing. Sculpture. Abstract. These are all forms of creativity.

Whether actually investing financially or emotionally it's all still an investment. To an extent, it's a performance of some kind. Here it's an investment of lots of words; almost all from the heart as I try to make sense of life.

Most of the time, I'm writing for me, but when writing every day for almost five years it's easy to feel the malaise that "nobody cares."

Now, I know I have a collection of people who do, indeed, care, so there's an inherent exaggeration in that statement.

This, by the way, isn't begging for everyone to say how much they love my work, but then again it would hardly be the first time that the point of a post has been missed since I didn't express it correctly.

I have friends and loved ones who create in myriad ways and they put their work out. How they measure the success of that work is up to them.

How I measure it I suppose is in that I hope it lands. I hope it resonates. So it's not always in reads but the quality of the reads, I guess.

It's an eye-opener when I see likes on a post and realize people are responding to the picture that I've used versus what I've written.

Then again, I often think that the statistics are flawed. 

But people do create. Let them know you appreciate that.

Read their stuff. Like their posts. Buy their product. Support them. Tell them you support them.

Trust me. It means more than you know.

(And buy Susan's latest book. It's emotional and deep and wonderful. I actually have a signed copy!)

Anticipation

(Photo: ABC)

Parts of Florida are waiting for a hurricane.

Idalia -- with a potential to reach category 3 status -- is expected to hit overnight.

To reporters at the Weather Channel and others, this is a Super Bowl for them. That might seem crass but there's truth to it. Nobody is necessarily excited, given the destruction and possible loss of life involved, but when you work in any form of journalism, the big stories matter a lot.

We -- from sports to weather to news and beyond -- want to be accurate and honorable in our reporting. 

So whether it's a presidential election, national tragedy, war, weather catastrophe, or huge sports game, it's something we as reporters will never forget.

Would I dash into a hurricane to report? Yeah, I think I probably would, as I did to be in the studio for Superstorm Sandy.

As of this writing -- just after 5 p.m. -- Florida now is waiting. The shelves are likely clear of any supplies that residents need if they're sheltering in place. The roads appear passable as of now via Google for those who want to get out of town but the clock is ticking away to do that.

I've been in touch with loved ones who have any interest in the path of the storm. Indeed, it appears Idalia will head up through Florida into Georgia, South Carolina, and into. -- you guessed -- North Carolina, where our family is. The storm will turn and head toward the Atlantic from there.

It's no joke and being prepared is key.

I'll do what I always do. I'll continue to monitor local radio and TV along with the Weather Channel. I get very interested in the coverage of these storms and am hoping everyone is safe when it is all over.

For those staying, I can't help but wonder about the decision. I hardly have any business judging as I don't know what the circumstances are but, yeah, I do wonder.

After it's over, so much of it is in the hands of the government and insurance companies to facilitate recovery for those impacted.

We mostly count our blessings here. We've had our storms -- no doubt -- but fortunately nothing like this. I remember a fair share of hurricane threats and certainly have stories of power outages and some cleanup after the storm was over. But our cleanup with of branches and lawn furniture that might have gotten blown around.

Where I've lived has had minor earthquakes, heavy rain, tropical storms, blizzards, and rare tornadoes. Rarely has it headed into situations where the National Guard was needed. I've long felt fortunate in that regard.

I'm hoping everyone in Florida is fortunate as this storm approaches.

Sadly, only time will tell.