Minor league ballparks, especially press boxes, are not built for people who are self conscious. Learned this quickly. First stop of the year was Bakersfield, where the others in the box can hear every word you say. Second stop was San Jose, where the scoreboard operators sits right next to you in a very tiny box.
In Rancho Cucamonga, the most gorgeous ballpark in the league, you're still in a wide open with the writer(s), other announcer, and scoreboard operators. Some call your corner -- it's not a booth -- a penalty box from hockey. In Visalia, you're completely outside ... rain or shine.
The point is, others in the press box can hear every word you say. In most ballparks -- the people in the last rows before the press box -- can hear every word. In Visalia, we had a game with so few attending, the starting pitchers who were charting pitches later told me they heard every word -- and they were a good 20-30 feet away.
In Bakersfield, where we are tonight for thank goodness the final time this year, our bus driver and his son, all the pitchers, and all the fans (well, both of 'em) underneath my booth can hear every word as well.
No doubt, I was very self conscious when the season began. To this day, I'm still a little self conscious. Perhaps I'm just more aware, especially if I screw up something. But when we were in Rancho Cucamonga last weekend, I didn't feel the same anxiety that I felt when the season began.
Told myself the followings things:
1. The people who are hearing me are used to hearing the visiting announcer every game.
2. I can't do anything about it.
3. I owe it to the audience to not worry about it.
4. I can't possibly be the worst announcer they've ever heard.
And most recently:
5. Here's a chance to show off ... and maybe get some feedback.
It's still not easy. I know it's hard to imagine this, because hundreds are listening on the internet and on the radio, but it's really weird to know that a few people right next to you are listening.
Slowly but surely, I'm continuing to get over myself and just do the job.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Getting over yourself
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Life in A-ball, cuz
The headline was a popular expression, or so I'm told, of last year's Modesto Nuts manager Glenallen Hill. We had one of those days when G-Hill would have said that phrase a lot.
We bussed down to Bakersfield, which just edges Visalia for the most depressing place in minor league baseball. OK, most depressing in the Cal League.
For some reason, we had a different hotel. Never a good thing when you're switching hotels in the middle of the season. The address we were given was for a Ramada. We pulled up, and the lady at the front desk about had a heart attack when she saw 25 baseball players, plus coaches and staff, get off a bus. They had no record of us staying there.
Phone calls were made. Hotels are setup by the home team. The Bakersfield front office insisted we were at the right place. Turns out, there's another Ramada in town. Who'd have thought there was two Ramadas in Bakersfield?
But thank goodness there are. The first Ramada looked like a dump. Of course, I will admit, it was sad that we weren't staying at the same hotel as the pale-skinned woman sitting at the pool, weighing a good two and a half bills, legs spread wide, and smoking a cigarette. But a few others on the bus had already called "dibs" on her anyway.
I digress. Arrived at the other Ramada, and all is well in the world. Temporarily.
The phone lines at "historic" Sam Lynn Ballpark -- I prefer to say prehistoric -- are a joke. You can't stay connected for longer than 20-30 minutes. Not when I call to the radio station. Not when the radio station calls me. So once again, we had to use the cell phone comrex to establish a connection.
There's no internet. No wireless. No DSL. That means, even though we had an internet-only broadcast, we had to broadcast the game from a cell connetion. I had ringing in my ears all night. Tough game to broadcast. We scored eight runs in the second inning for a 9-0 lead. From that point on, I'm trying to fill seven innings of a game that is essentially over.
It's a good 20 degrees hotter in the press box than the ballpark, and the game time temperature was an even 100 degrees. When the night was eventually over, I'd see a sun rash all over my chest.
But the night wasn't over when the game ended. Our bus had a flat tire. No way he could drive it. It's hard to find somebody to fix a bus tire at 11 at night. Now, if this happened in Modesto, ever front office member would be giving rides for the players and staff back to the hotel. We'd volunteer to do it, and wouldn't think twice of it.
Instead, no such help from the Bakersfield front office. Only one guy was left in the front office, and at least he called a cab company for us. Most of the team waited on the bus watching a movie until the first cab arrived. Some players got rides from friends and family back to the hotel.
The things about cities like Bakersfield, there's not a lot of cabs. It was two drivers who ended up taking everybody back and forth who didn't get a ride elsewhere.
I let the players go first, and waited until the end. Ended up swapping stories with Chris Strickland, our trainer, and a few others about busses breaking down in the middle of nowhere. One thing about people in the minors like Chris, they have great stories. When I say great stories, that's another way of saying, "oh my goodness, that's horrendous. Tonight is bad, but that was ridiculous. I'm so glad that happened to you, and not me."
Finally got back to the hotel around 1 a.m., almost three hours after the game ended. I've had my share of ridiculous travel stories in seven years covering major league baseball. Last night wasn't the worst. It was probably in the top five, but only because of the dueling Ramada hotels from the afternoon.
Indeed, welcome to A-ball, cuz.
** UPDATE: Our bus driver Craig had the tire fixed the next day. He found a key inside the tire. Yes, one of the great citizens of Bakersfield keyed our bus. Nice. **
Friday, July 27, 2007
Polishing a turd
About three weeks ago, I started to prepare myself for a rough summer. Our team had just been swept three games in Bakersfield, who brought a 10-game losing streak into the series. Our record was 3-7, and I feared the prospect of broadcasting another 60 games with lots of losing, and lots of bad baseball.
To my relief, the team has taken off. Going into tonight's game in Bakersfield, the Nuts have won 18 of 24 games. We're in first place, and the playoffs are looking like a foregone conclusion.
No doubt, I got lucky. I just don't know how you broadcast games nine innings every day for a losing team. For instance, my new friend John Rosen is the High Desert announcer, and his team has lost eight in a row entering tonight, 26 of 34 in the second half, after being in last place in the first half ... and, he has to broadcast 70 home games in the middle of nowhere (aka. Adelanto).
Another new friend, Zack Bayrouty of the Stockton Ports, is forced to call games for a team that has lost 22 of 34 games in the second half. In Zack's case, his team is really tough to watch because all the good players have been promoted to Double-A. All that remains is journeyman, castoffs from independent leagues, and non-prospects.
You can't be super critical of your team. I mean, most of your audience is the friends and family of the players on the internet, season ticket holders listening on the radio, or a handful of other diehard baseball fans who stumble upon the game while driving down the freeway. In the cases of High Desert and Stockton, they just don't have the talent the other teams in the league do.
Once again, this really makes me appreciate a guy like Ernie Harwell, the legendary announcer of the Detroit Tigers. Harwell did a lot of games between the 1984 World Series and the 2006 World Series, a lot of really dreadful games where the Tigers rarely won, and did it with dignity and class. As a result, he's probably the most beloved employee of the Tigers. That's the ultimate pro.
It takes a special pro to strike the right balance of "being positive vs. being honest" as you broadcast games for a team that's really bad. At some point, if I stay in broadcasting long enough, I'm destined to eventually have to do that.
Sure hope that I could do that, if I had to do that, but I'm very happy that I don't have to find out right now.
To my relief, the team has taken off. Going into tonight's game in Bakersfield, the Nuts have won 18 of 24 games. We're in first place, and the playoffs are looking like a foregone conclusion.
No doubt, I got lucky. I just don't know how you broadcast games nine innings every day for a losing team. For instance, my new friend John Rosen is the High Desert announcer, and his team has lost eight in a row entering tonight, 26 of 34 in the second half, after being in last place in the first half ... and, he has to broadcast 70 home games in the middle of nowhere (aka. Adelanto).
Another new friend, Zack Bayrouty of the Stockton Ports, is forced to call games for a team that has lost 22 of 34 games in the second half. In Zack's case, his team is really tough to watch because all the good players have been promoted to Double-A. All that remains is journeyman, castoffs from independent leagues, and non-prospects.
You can't be super critical of your team. I mean, most of your audience is the friends and family of the players on the internet, season ticket holders listening on the radio, or a handful of other diehard baseball fans who stumble upon the game while driving down the freeway. In the cases of High Desert and Stockton, they just don't have the talent the other teams in the league do.
Once again, this really makes me appreciate a guy like Ernie Harwell, the legendary announcer of the Detroit Tigers. Harwell did a lot of games between the 1984 World Series and the 2006 World Series, a lot of really dreadful games where the Tigers rarely won, and did it with dignity and class. As a result, he's probably the most beloved employee of the Tigers. That's the ultimate pro.
It takes a special pro to strike the right balance of "being positive vs. being honest" as you broadcast games for a team that's really bad. At some point, if I stay in broadcasting long enough, I'm destined to eventually have to do that.
Sure hope that I could do that, if I had to do that, but I'm very happy that I don't have to find out right now.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Breathing more
The biggest theme to the feedback I’ve received this season is to slow down, and let the broadcast “breathe” more. This will always be tough for me because I have a fairly hyper personality. Always room for improvement now in my broadcasts, but listening to my games over the last 3-4 weeks, I realize that I’m wayyyy better than I was in April.
The telling sign for my improvement is how it’s changed my speech patterns in everyday life. I’ve always been a fast talker. An amateur psychologist might conclude it stems from being self conscious, or a lack of confidence, or just being nervous. (Personally, I think I’m just always in a hurry to do everything – talk, type, eat, drive, etc.)
During one of my recent coaching sessions, this point was driven home as we evaluated my interview with Oakland A’s general manager Billy Beane.
One of my questions was: “your assistant general manager, David Forst, many consider him the heir apparent in Oakland, or a GM candidate elsewhere. Did he try to talk you out of that seven-year extension?”
My coach thought it was a great question, but he thought the delivery was off. I’ve listened to that question about 20 times now, and it kills me, because it would be soooooooo much better if I relaxed and asked it slower.
Such as, “your assistant general manager is David Forst. (pause) Many consider him the heir apparent in Oakland or a GM candidate elsewhere. (longer pause). I’m curious (quick pause) did he try talking you out of that seven-year extension?”
As any stand-up comic will tell you, it’s not just what you say; it’s how you say it. I’m learning that … slowly … sometimes, very slowly. I’m learning it’s much easier to do solo, in the booth, than it is doing a live interview with the most famous GM in baseball.
Recently, I was talking ball with my friend Zack Bayrouty, the Stockton Ports announcer, and I asked him if he heard what Bakersfield third baseman Chris Davis did the night before. Z-Bay said no, so I explained how Davis extended his hitting streak by going 4-for-4 … with four runs … and four RBIs.
“Wow,” Z-bay said.
“Annnnnnnd,” I added, pausing a second or two for emphasis, “he had four errors also.”
Two months ago, I’d have said, “hehadfourhitsfourrunsfourRBIsandfourerrors.”
Nowwwww … I draw out the words a little longer … pause for dramatic affect … let the words from the first part of the sentence sink in … and then finish my sentence. Granted, easier said to do that talking to Z-Bay, than a live interview with Billy Beane, but a lesson to be learned and practiced more.
Knowing my friends, they will probably find this really annoying … and tell me to stop talking like I’m on the air and just talk like the old Josh.
The telling sign for my improvement is how it’s changed my speech patterns in everyday life. I’ve always been a fast talker. An amateur psychologist might conclude it stems from being self conscious, or a lack of confidence, or just being nervous. (Personally, I think I’m just always in a hurry to do everything – talk, type, eat, drive, etc.)
During one of my recent coaching sessions, this point was driven home as we evaluated my interview with Oakland A’s general manager Billy Beane.
One of my questions was: “your assistant general manager, David Forst, many consider him the heir apparent in Oakland, or a GM candidate elsewhere. Did he try to talk you out of that seven-year extension?”
My coach thought it was a great question, but he thought the delivery was off. I’ve listened to that question about 20 times now, and it kills me, because it would be soooooooo much better if I relaxed and asked it slower.
Such as, “your assistant general manager is David Forst. (pause) Many consider him the heir apparent in Oakland or a GM candidate elsewhere. (longer pause). I’m curious (quick pause) did he try talking you out of that seven-year extension?”
As any stand-up comic will tell you, it’s not just what you say; it’s how you say it. I’m learning that … slowly … sometimes, very slowly. I’m learning it’s much easier to do solo, in the booth, than it is doing a live interview with the most famous GM in baseball.
Recently, I was talking ball with my friend Zack Bayrouty, the Stockton Ports announcer, and I asked him if he heard what Bakersfield third baseman Chris Davis did the night before. Z-Bay said no, so I explained how Davis extended his hitting streak by going 4-for-4 … with four runs … and four RBIs.
“Wow,” Z-bay said.
“Annnnnnnd,” I added, pausing a second or two for emphasis, “he had four errors also.”
Two months ago, I’d have said, “hehadfourhitsfourrunsfourRBIsandfourerrors.”
Nowwwww … I draw out the words a little longer … pause for dramatic affect … let the words from the first part of the sentence sink in … and then finish my sentence. Granted, easier said to do that talking to Z-Bay, than a live interview with Billy Beane, but a lesson to be learned and practiced more.
Knowing my friends, they will probably find this really annoying … and tell me to stop talking like I’m on the air and just talk like the old Josh.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Channeling the ghost of Jack Buck
My first "Jack Buck" moment came last night. During his famous call of Kirk Gibson's home run to beat Dennis Eckersley and the Oakland A's in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series, Buck told the audience, "I don't believe what I just saw."
The stakes weren't exactly the same in my game or my call. OK, mine was a like a pebble of sand on Waikiki Beach compared to that game, but it was my own moment to use a Buck-esque phrase.
The scenario: tie game, 10th inning, second and third, one out. Stockton was intentionally walking Modesto's Travis Becktel to load the bases. Well, that was the plan. The second pitch sailed to the backstop for a wild pitch. The winning run scored on it.
Here is how I described it. Midway through the call, felt myself screaming a little too much, and tried to lower my voice, without losing the excitement or the drama. If you listen closely, you can tell when I flipped the mental switch in my brain to not scream.
You can never prepare for a call like that. It's all about your spontaneous call. Truth be told, I was lucky this called turned out how it did. For one, I was actually writing "IW" (intentional walk) in my scorebook when it happened. When I heard the crowd go crazy, I looked up and saw the catcher running to the backstop. I described the rest pretty well, although the perfectionist in me would have changed a few things.
"You've got to be kidding me," I said. After a pause, I then added, "Now I've seen it all." Made a conscious decision not to admit on the air that I didn't actually see it. I'll admit it here on this blog. It's easy to say, "never take your eyes off the field because you might miss something." That's true. But you have to look down at your scorebook and stat sheets. Nobody has a photographic memory. It's called note taking.
But I tell you what, I'll probably never look down during an intentional walk ever again.
The stakes weren't exactly the same in my game or my call. OK, mine was a like a pebble of sand on Waikiki Beach compared to that game, but it was my own moment to use a Buck-esque phrase.
The scenario: tie game, 10th inning, second and third, one out. Stockton was intentionally walking Modesto's Travis Becktel to load the bases. Well, that was the plan. The second pitch sailed to the backstop for a wild pitch. The winning run scored on it.
Here is how I described it. Midway through the call, felt myself screaming a little too much, and tried to lower my voice, without losing the excitement or the drama. If you listen closely, you can tell when I flipped the mental switch in my brain to not scream.
You can never prepare for a call like that. It's all about your spontaneous call. Truth be told, I was lucky this called turned out how it did. For one, I was actually writing "IW" (intentional walk) in my scorebook when it happened. When I heard the crowd go crazy, I looked up and saw the catcher running to the backstop. I described the rest pretty well, although the perfectionist in me would have changed a few things.
"You've got to be kidding me," I said. After a pause, I then added, "Now I've seen it all." Made a conscious decision not to admit on the air that I didn't actually see it. I'll admit it here on this blog. It's easy to say, "never take your eyes off the field because you might miss something." That's true. But you have to look down at your scorebook and stat sheets. Nobody has a photographic memory. It's called note taking.
But I tell you what, I'll probably never look down during an intentional walk ever again.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
A midterm exam
Imagine being early into a report, and finding out it was a mid-term exam that's worth half your grade. That's what last night's broadcast felt like.
We went live on the radio in the second inning, and I learned that my boss was running the board back in the studio. Not often that a program director will spend a Saturday night pushing the buttons for commercials, and this wasn't his choice.
No grade was given out, so it wasn't a real mid-term exam, but it was definitely weird knowing the boss was listening to every word. He'll listen to bits and pieces of games, but he has a life, and he lives with his girlfriend, and I'm sure she doesn't want him listening to games every night.
It was almost like not wanting to disappoint your parents. After all, few people were giving me the time of day as I tried to make the transition from print to radio. This guy took a huge chance on me, and this was the ultimate opportunity to show him that he made the right decision.
Overall, I thought the broadcast went fine. Most importantly, it went smooth. In and out of breaks, and the transition from one announcer to announcer. Thought my best call of the night was on a double play, and these days, I get more excited about making a good call on a double play than a home run.
Early in the broadcast, the boss sent a text message that said, "you guys sound good." I wrote back, "we always sound good." If you don't believe us, just ask us.
Hopefully, he took notes and will provide some feedback when I see him Monday in the office. Then we'll know how I did on my mid-term.
** UPDATE ** No feedback at all. Jeez, talk about your buzzkill. Thought it was a mid-term, or at least a pop quiz. Guess it was just another game after all, which I suppose is fitting, the more I think about it. Baseball broadcasting isn't about having a great game when your boss is listening. It's about having 140 consecutive quality broadcasts because you never know who might be listening. You have to be a grinder in this business.
We went live on the radio in the second inning, and I learned that my boss was running the board back in the studio. Not often that a program director will spend a Saturday night pushing the buttons for commercials, and this wasn't his choice.
No grade was given out, so it wasn't a real mid-term exam, but it was definitely weird knowing the boss was listening to every word. He'll listen to bits and pieces of games, but he has a life, and he lives with his girlfriend, and I'm sure she doesn't want him listening to games every night.
It was almost like not wanting to disappoint your parents. After all, few people were giving me the time of day as I tried to make the transition from print to radio. This guy took a huge chance on me, and this was the ultimate opportunity to show him that he made the right decision.
Overall, I thought the broadcast went fine. Most importantly, it went smooth. In and out of breaks, and the transition from one announcer to announcer. Thought my best call of the night was on a double play, and these days, I get more excited about making a good call on a double play than a home run.
Early in the broadcast, the boss sent a text message that said, "you guys sound good." I wrote back, "we always sound good." If you don't believe us, just ask us.
Hopefully, he took notes and will provide some feedback when I see him Monday in the office. Then we'll know how I did on my mid-term.
** UPDATE ** No feedback at all. Jeez, talk about your buzzkill. Thought it was a mid-term, or at least a pop quiz. Guess it was just another game after all, which I suppose is fitting, the more I think about it. Baseball broadcasting isn't about having a great game when your boss is listening. It's about having 140 consecutive quality broadcasts because you never know who might be listening. You have to be a grinder in this business.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
In a pickle
Pickles are great on sandwiches. Pickle was one of my favorite games to play as a kid.
Describing a pickle in a baseball game is not easy. It's one of the hardest, in fact, and I've been thinking lately it's the ultimate test of a baseball announcer's skill. They don't happen very often, and they usually end quickly .. well, at least in the majors.
In the minors, sometimes they take awhile and don't end so well for the defense. We had back-to-back pickles in the last two games.
The first was Monday night, when Eric Young, Jr. was caught between first and second base, and Travis Becktel made a dash home ahead of the throw. Everybody was safe.
The second was last night, when Cole Garner was caught between first and second base, the Bakerfield infield -- no doubt thinking about the previous night's play -- butchered it again. This time, the lead runner stayed at third base, and Garner was safe at second.
Upon further review, I ended up getting wayyy more critical than I usually get. Hope it wasn't overboard, but figure the audience needed to be told the truth.
Overall, I don't love or hate my calls on those. Consider them acceptable, but think it displays that I'm still not exactly where I expect myself to be at handling these plays.
Next came an example where my journalistic background helps me. A botched rundown is an immediate storyline and I wanted to go with it. So I said the standard, "let's see if the Nuts can make them pay" line, and sure enough, they did.
A two-run single by Young. Then a two-run double by Chris Nelson. Then an RBI double by Justin Nelson. Another RBI double, this one by Jeff Kindel.
Then I took a light-hearted approach, saying "I was just being optimistic" about making Bakersfield pay for the mistake. In all, the Nuts scored seven runs in the inning, led 8-0, and rolled to a 15-2 victory.
Earlier in the game, nearly nailed the call of Young scoring from second base on an errant pickoff throw. I've quickly learned to always expect Young to take the extra base, and proud of the way I saw this play developing. But at the beginning, I accidentally said the pickoff throw to first base -- instead of second base -- and had to correct myself.
P.S. Yes, in case you're wondering, now that I finally know how to post audio clips, I have gone mad in posting a lot of them. A record nine in this post!
Describing a pickle in a baseball game is not easy. It's one of the hardest, in fact, and I've been thinking lately it's the ultimate test of a baseball announcer's skill. They don't happen very often, and they usually end quickly .. well, at least in the majors.
In the minors, sometimes they take awhile and don't end so well for the defense. We had back-to-back pickles in the last two games.
The first was Monday night, when Eric Young, Jr. was caught between first and second base, and Travis Becktel made a dash home ahead of the throw. Everybody was safe.
The second was last night, when Cole Garner was caught between first and second base, the Bakerfield infield -- no doubt thinking about the previous night's play -- butchered it again. This time, the lead runner stayed at third base, and Garner was safe at second.
Upon further review, I ended up getting wayyy more critical than I usually get. Hope it wasn't overboard, but figure the audience needed to be told the truth.
Overall, I don't love or hate my calls on those. Consider them acceptable, but think it displays that I'm still not exactly where I expect myself to be at handling these plays.
Next came an example where my journalistic background helps me. A botched rundown is an immediate storyline and I wanted to go with it. So I said the standard, "let's see if the Nuts can make them pay" line, and sure enough, they did.
A two-run single by Young. Then a two-run double by Chris Nelson. Then an RBI double by Justin Nelson. Another RBI double, this one by Jeff Kindel.
Then I took a light-hearted approach, saying "I was just being optimistic" about making Bakersfield pay for the mistake. In all, the Nuts scored seven runs in the inning, led 8-0, and rolled to a 15-2 victory.
Earlier in the game, nearly nailed the call of Young scoring from second base on an errant pickoff throw. I've quickly learned to always expect Young to take the extra base, and proud of the way I saw this play developing. But at the beginning, I accidentally said the pickoff throw to first base -- instead of second base -- and had to correct myself.
P.S. Yes, in case you're wondering, now that I finally know how to post audio clips, I have gone mad in posting a lot of them. A record nine in this post!
Monday, July 9, 2007
Only in the Cal League
Well, maybe you can get away with some of this stuff in Double-A or Triple-A. But tonight was an example of something you can do broadcasting a baseball game in the California League that you can't do in the big leagues.
The Nuts won easily tonight, 15-2. It was 8-0 after two innings. Total blowout.
Greg Young and I had been thinking about a night when we'd ask the team's biggest character, shortstop Chris Nelson, to interview one of his teammates live on the radio. Just to mix things up. Received clearance from the program director to go for it. Not every time. But just for something new.
We figured with a game like this, everybody on Modesto's side would be in a good mood and it was the perfect night. It took some prodding from batting coach Dave Hajek, but Nelson agreed to interview teammate Cole Garner. It was hilarious. Nelly was cutting off answers, making sure that nicknames were explained, and handled himself like a pro.
Afterward, the fellas in the sound room turned on Chris Nelson's entrance music again, which is "Heart of a Champion" by, fittingly Nelly.
The part they use starts with "Nel-ly, Nel-ly" as he comes to the plate and includes the line, "ain't no way they can stop me now." Anytime Chris gets a hit, they play the "ain't no way they can stop be now" line again, and you can see Chris fired up on the bases. So when they played it again after the interview, Chris puts his hands above his head, and took a victory lap around the bases.
Described it all on the radio, as I tried to keep from laughing. It was a beautiful moment and showed the comraderie you get in the minors between the players, broadcasters and videoboard operators.
Can't imagine A's shortstop Bobby Crosby interviewing teammate Shannon Stewart live on the field on A's radio broadcast, then taking a victory lap as they played his song. But in the minors, it worked.
My days of staying in a king bed in four-star hotels, flying to the best cities in the country, and expensing everything are over.
A night like tonight, however, was priceless.
The Nuts won easily tonight, 15-2. It was 8-0 after two innings. Total blowout.
Greg Young and I had been thinking about a night when we'd ask the team's biggest character, shortstop Chris Nelson, to interview one of his teammates live on the radio. Just to mix things up. Received clearance from the program director to go for it. Not every time. But just for something new.
We figured with a game like this, everybody on Modesto's side would be in a good mood and it was the perfect night. It took some prodding from batting coach Dave Hajek, but Nelson agreed to interview teammate Cole Garner. It was hilarious. Nelly was cutting off answers, making sure that nicknames were explained, and handled himself like a pro.
Afterward, the fellas in the sound room turned on Chris Nelson's entrance music again, which is "Heart of a Champion" by, fittingly Nelly.
The part they use starts with "Nel-ly, Nel-ly" as he comes to the plate and includes the line, "ain't no way they can stop me now." Anytime Chris gets a hit, they play the "ain't no way they can stop be now" line again, and you can see Chris fired up on the bases. So when they played it again after the interview, Chris puts his hands above his head, and took a victory lap around the bases.
Described it all on the radio, as I tried to keep from laughing. It was a beautiful moment and showed the comraderie you get in the minors between the players, broadcasters and videoboard operators.
Can't imagine A's shortstop Bobby Crosby interviewing teammate Shannon Stewart live on the field on A's radio broadcast, then taking a victory lap as they played his song. But in the minors, it worked.
My days of staying in a king bed in four-star hotels, flying to the best cities in the country, and expensing everything are over.
A night like tonight, however, was priceless.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
4th of July fun
No idea if this is accurate, but I felt -- or maybe it's hoped -- that our radio audience last night was our biggest. The circumstances were certainly there. It's the 4th of July, and I imagine a lot of people BBQing in their backyards, and having a radio on with the ballgame. After all, what's more American that fireworks, BBQing and baseball?
Here in Modesto, the postgame fireworks is also the city's municipal fireworks. So the golf course behind the ballpark was packed, as were the soccer fields beyond the outfield fences. The fans were constantly setting off fireworks of their own. In fact, so much smoke was in the air from the fireworks, San Jose center fielder Antoan Richardson even lost a ball in the smoke, during one of Greg's innings.
The area around the ballpark was packed with fans. Again, perhaps wishful thinking, but I imagined the fans around the ballpark with their radios listening to the game, or at least listening to the game on the radio as they circled the ballpark looking for a place to park, to know how close the game was to ending.
Made it a point to say hello to the fans outside the ballpark a bunch of times. One of them is an older dude who is always at games and calls himself "tree guy" because he sits under a tree and collects foul balls. At least once, when a foul ball was headed his way, I'd let him know on the air.
It was a good game, the Nuts won 9-5, thanks to a leadoff home run by Eric Young, Jr. and another first inning homer by Justin Nelson. Against my better judgment, I watched the fireworks, got stuck in massive traffic, and will get one less hour of sleep.
If I was in a rut a few days ago, the sellout crowds the last two nights, plus all the great action definitely have me out of it.
Here in Modesto, the postgame fireworks is also the city's municipal fireworks. So the golf course behind the ballpark was packed, as were the soccer fields beyond the outfield fences. The fans were constantly setting off fireworks of their own. In fact, so much smoke was in the air from the fireworks, San Jose center fielder Antoan Richardson even lost a ball in the smoke, during one of Greg's innings.
The area around the ballpark was packed with fans. Again, perhaps wishful thinking, but I imagined the fans around the ballpark with their radios listening to the game, or at least listening to the game on the radio as they circled the ballpark looking for a place to park, to know how close the game was to ending.
Made it a point to say hello to the fans outside the ballpark a bunch of times. One of them is an older dude who is always at games and calls himself "tree guy" because he sits under a tree and collects foul balls. At least once, when a foul ball was headed his way, I'd let him know on the air.
It was a good game, the Nuts won 9-5, thanks to a leadoff home run by Eric Young, Jr. and another first inning homer by Justin Nelson. Against my better judgment, I watched the fireworks, got stuck in massive traffic, and will get one less hour of sleep.
If I was in a rut a few days ago, the sellout crowds the last two nights, plus all the great action definitely have me out of it.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Exhausted, yet exhilirated
Now I know how arena football announcers must feel. Or how my colleague Jeff Lasky, the play by play announcer in Lancaster -- where every game is a slugfest -- must feel every night.
Last night's game was a 16-12 slugfest. Modesto won it, and the back-and-forth drama made for a lot of fun. Exhausting, yes. Ridiculous, yes. And exhilirating, most defintely.
It was yet another example of something that's wayyyyyy more fun to broadcast than it would be to recap for a newspaper. A lot of home runs were hit, and I got to have some fun describing some of them. Such as the tape-measure home run by Justin Nelson that made me pretend I was in San Francisco.
On the heels of my post a few days ago about calling the other team's dramatic home runs, I thought I found a better balance of "excitement vs. oh no" when Stockton's Tommy Everidge hit a three-run home run in the eighth inning to give the Ports the lead.
Nearly got caught with my head down in the scorebook, and recapping the scoring from the top of the ninth inning, when Chris Nelson hit a towering home run that broke the game open, and provided the final score. Wasn't happy that I missed the pitch coming to the plate, but recovered good enough.
This was one of those games when I'm still jacked full of adrenaline an hour after the game. That makes falling asleep difficult. And that means I'll have to be extra careful that I don't carryover that emotion into the first inning of tonight's game.
Think we got carried away in our giddiness over the crowd mic. We had it cranked up a little too much, so a good majority of the game wasn't as clean sounding as we'd prefer. I have the ultimate respect for engineers and sound techs. Whatever they get paid, it's not enough.
Last night's game was a 16-12 slugfest. Modesto won it, and the back-and-forth drama made for a lot of fun. Exhausting, yes. Ridiculous, yes. And exhilirating, most defintely.
It was yet another example of something that's wayyyyyy more fun to broadcast than it would be to recap for a newspaper. A lot of home runs were hit, and I got to have some fun describing some of them. Such as the tape-measure home run by Justin Nelson that made me pretend I was in San Francisco.
On the heels of my post a few days ago about calling the other team's dramatic home runs, I thought I found a better balance of "excitement vs. oh no" when Stockton's Tommy Everidge hit a three-run home run in the eighth inning to give the Ports the lead.
Nearly got caught with my head down in the scorebook, and recapping the scoring from the top of the ninth inning, when Chris Nelson hit a towering home run that broke the game open, and provided the final score. Wasn't happy that I missed the pitch coming to the plate, but recovered good enough.
This was one of those games when I'm still jacked full of adrenaline an hour after the game. That makes falling asleep difficult. And that means I'll have to be extra careful that I don't carryover that emotion into the first inning of tonight's game.
Think we got carried away in our giddiness over the crowd mic. We had it cranked up a little too much, so a good majority of the game wasn't as clean sounding as we'd prefer. I have the ultimate respect for engineers and sound techs. Whatever they get paid, it's not enough.
Monday, July 2, 2007
The ultimate crack of the bat
It's always fun going to Banner Island Ballpark in Stockton because:
1. the ballpark is new and beautiful.
2. the radio booth is enormous.
3. the Stockton Ports are the A's affiliate, and I know more about that organization than any other.
4. it's a road game, but it's the shortest trip.
5. there's good free food.
The list is not necessarily in that order. One really cool thing about the ballpark is they have a crowd mic somewhere in the ballpark that we can plug into our mixing board. We don't even know where it's located, but it makes the broadcast sound soooo much better. For starters, we don't have to tape a mic to the outside of the press box, and don't have to worry about some jackass fan walking by and thinking he's funny by saying something into the mic.
But also, it makes the crack of the bat sound amazing. In addition, in last night's game, you could really hear the crowd make a collective "ooooooohhh" when one of the Ports players missed a catchable flyball on the warning track.
The broadcast sounds big league. Very cool.
In fact, in the latest cool thing we've got going on our website, Greg figured out how we can post audio highlights from the game on the website. The links are inside the game recaps. You can hear last night's right here, and you can definitely hear the crack of the bat in the highlights.
1. the ballpark is new and beautiful.
2. the radio booth is enormous.
3. the Stockton Ports are the A's affiliate, and I know more about that organization than any other.
4. it's a road game, but it's the shortest trip.
5. there's good free food.
The list is not necessarily in that order. One really cool thing about the ballpark is they have a crowd mic somewhere in the ballpark that we can plug into our mixing board. We don't even know where it's located, but it makes the broadcast sound soooo much better. For starters, we don't have to tape a mic to the outside of the press box, and don't have to worry about some jackass fan walking by and thinking he's funny by saying something into the mic.
But also, it makes the crack of the bat sound amazing. In addition, in last night's game, you could really hear the crowd make a collective "ooooooohhh" when one of the Ports players missed a catchable flyball on the warning track.
The broadcast sounds big league. Very cool.
In fact, in the latest cool thing we've got going on our website, Greg figured out how we can post audio highlights from the game on the website. The links are inside the game recaps. You can hear last night's right here, and you can definitely hear the crack of the bat in the highlights.
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