Always thought it was so cool the way the A's would use a highlight from Bill King or Ken Korach at the Coliseum -- either in pregame to recap the previous game, or during a game after a big play, or just after the game to show the highlights of the game -- and I wondered how it must feel to have 20-35,000 fans hear your call.
Well, now I kinda know ... at least, what it's like to have a couple thousand hear a call I make. It's weird. Very weird. It's both exhilirating and nerve-racking. I'm usually paranoid that it's a bad call and I'm going to sound like an idiot. Then I get self-conscious when I realize how many people are paying attention. Then I don't know how to react when people say something to me afterward.
Guess I'll get more practice at this. My cousin, the videoboard guru, is now incorporating the calls of myself and Greg Young into the highlights they show on the videoboard at home games. This includes pregame, the "save" of the game, and something after the game.
So during my open tonight, I was totally distracted talking because I heard myself over the PA system. During one half-inning, when I was talking to the internet audience instead of taking a break, I was totally distracted hearing myself over the PA. And then after the game, I was totally distracted for another reason ... the post-game victory song.
I'll gladly brag about recommending a somewhat-forgotten Santana song from the early 1980s titled, "Winning" and my cousin Grant used it, as soon as the final out was made. Totally pumped to hear the song, whatever I was saying I'm sure was nonsense because I was distracted by the victory song I recommended.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
It's worth repeating
One of my biggest pet peeves for radio and television is when the host/newsmaker/announcer says, "welcome back" to the audience. The audience didn't go anywhere. You went to a commercial.
When I come back to start an inning, after a commercial break, I try to rotate the first thing I say between something like, "top of the fourth, no score" or "Modesto leads 1-0 after two innings" and other phrases. But I've realized, after some self-critiquing lately, I get stuck saying the same thing too often.
Made a copy of all the "Jerry Weinstein" shows for our manager the other day. Listening to them quickly in the car, I realized how similar the beginning of almost every show was. I'd start with something like, "It's game two of a three-game series tonight between the Lancaster JetHawks and Modesto Nuts. Last night, Modesto lost 8-5, and Jerry, as we look back on last night's game ... "
This had me thinking how repetitiveness as a broadcaster. Certain phrases are natural and needed. But after two months in my career, I've started to get tired of hearing myself say certain phrases. One of them is, "that will do it for Modesto in the bottom of the seventh, but they scored a run .... "
Driving home last night after our game, the A's game was still on the radio, and I heard Ken Korach simple say, "that's it in the 10th" and just liked the simplicity. Also realized that I probably say, "throws to first base" every time on grounders to infielder. Heard Korach say, "flips to first" and liked that as another option -- especially for a second baseman.
Made me think about phrases and ways to describe plays. On the bus to San Bernardino on Thursday, I'm going to brainstorm a long list of ways to describe the same thing. I'll post my results.
When I come back to start an inning, after a commercial break, I try to rotate the first thing I say between something like, "top of the fourth, no score" or "Modesto leads 1-0 after two innings" and other phrases. But I've realized, after some self-critiquing lately, I get stuck saying the same thing too often.
Made a copy of all the "Jerry Weinstein" shows for our manager the other day. Listening to them quickly in the car, I realized how similar the beginning of almost every show was. I'd start with something like, "It's game two of a three-game series tonight between the Lancaster JetHawks and Modesto Nuts. Last night, Modesto lost 8-5, and Jerry, as we look back on last night's game ... "
This had me thinking how repetitiveness as a broadcaster. Certain phrases are natural and needed. But after two months in my career, I've started to get tired of hearing myself say certain phrases. One of them is, "that will do it for Modesto in the bottom of the seventh, but they scored a run .... "
Driving home last night after our game, the A's game was still on the radio, and I heard Ken Korach simple say, "that's it in the 10th" and just liked the simplicity. Also realized that I probably say, "throws to first base" every time on grounders to infielder. Heard Korach say, "flips to first" and liked that as another option -- especially for a second baseman.
Made me think about phrases and ways to describe plays. On the bus to San Bernardino on Thursday, I'm going to brainstorm a long list of ways to describe the same thing. I'll post my results.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Calling it down the middle
Interesting balancing act for myself tonight. This was our first game against the Stockton Ports, the affiliate of the Oakland A's, so I had no shortage of information and stories about the players and the organization based on my three years covering the A's for The Oakland Tribune.
Eager to share this knowledge, and eager to think of anything else to talk about during a verrrrry lengthy game, I felt like I was talking more about the Ports than the Nuts. During one of the commercial breaks, I said this to Brian VanderBeek of The Modesto Bee. Brian told me it was only natural, and not to worry about it. He felt the same way a couple years ago, after the A's switched affiliates from Modesto to Stockton, because he knew the players in the Stockton clubhouse better than Modesto's.
Since Modesto and Stockton are close in proximity -- about 30 minutes away and our station can be heard in Stockton -- I hope the listeners didn't mind. Figure a lot of people are interested in both teams. A lot of people in the Central Valley are A's fans. Heck, our radio station is the Central Valley's home for the Oakland A's.
Still, it felt weird spending so much time talking about the opposition.
Another thought occurred to me driving home: did we spend too much time talking about how long the game was? and how ugly the game was?
Fifteen walks and five errors combined. Just under three hours and 45 minutes to complete. Certainly can't neglect these aspects of the game, or pretend it's not happening. Still, it's our job to entertain the listeners during such a blowout.
Myself, Greg Young and Beek had no trouble doing this, telling a bunch of stories and getting onto some great tangents. Did my best to not neglect the game and steer us back to the action -- or lack thereof -- in the game. In a lot of ways, it felt like doing a sports-talk show, during a baseball game.
A couple of times, I made sure to say something like, "but where else would we rather be than the ballpark?" when the discussion was about the length of the game. Or I mentioned once that sometimes a three-hour and 20-minute game can be beautiful because there's so much action. I always find it annoying when people getting paid to watch and talk about a sporting event complain about being there so long.
Didn't want to be "that guy," and hope I didn't come across that way.
The more I think about tonight, the more I realize how fun it was. The game was horrible, no doubt. But the broadcast was actually a lot of fun.
Eager to share this knowledge, and eager to think of anything else to talk about during a verrrrry lengthy game, I felt like I was talking more about the Ports than the Nuts. During one of the commercial breaks, I said this to Brian VanderBeek of The Modesto Bee. Brian told me it was only natural, and not to worry about it. He felt the same way a couple years ago, after the A's switched affiliates from Modesto to Stockton, because he knew the players in the Stockton clubhouse better than Modesto's.
Since Modesto and Stockton are close in proximity -- about 30 minutes away and our station can be heard in Stockton -- I hope the listeners didn't mind. Figure a lot of people are interested in both teams. A lot of people in the Central Valley are A's fans. Heck, our radio station is the Central Valley's home for the Oakland A's.
Still, it felt weird spending so much time talking about the opposition.
Another thought occurred to me driving home: did we spend too much time talking about how long the game was? and how ugly the game was?
Fifteen walks and five errors combined. Just under three hours and 45 minutes to complete. Certainly can't neglect these aspects of the game, or pretend it's not happening. Still, it's our job to entertain the listeners during such a blowout.
Myself, Greg Young and Beek had no trouble doing this, telling a bunch of stories and getting onto some great tangents. Did my best to not neglect the game and steer us back to the action -- or lack thereof -- in the game. In a lot of ways, it felt like doing a sports-talk show, during a baseball game.
A couple of times, I made sure to say something like, "but where else would we rather be than the ballpark?" when the discussion was about the length of the game. Or I mentioned once that sometimes a three-hour and 20-minute game can be beautiful because there's so much action. I always find it annoying when people getting paid to watch and talk about a sporting event complain about being there so long.
Didn't want to be "that guy," and hope I didn't come across that way.
The more I think about tonight, the more I realize how fun it was. The game was horrible, no doubt. But the broadcast was actually a lot of fun.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sign of the times
Promised myself I wasn't going to complain about Visalia's facilities, and I made it through a game without a complaint. It was actually fun broadcasting today's game outside. Temperature in the 80s. No wind blowing my papers everywhere. A big umbrella was above me, blocking the sun from doing bad things to the equipment -- and the back of my neck.
Between innings, one fan came over and asked for my autograph. Honest.
"Do you even know who I am?" I asked him.
"I just know you're the announcer," he replied.
Thought about signing it Vin Scully or Harry Caray or Jon Miller, but settled for my own name.
The first few road games are always an adjustment because I'm solo for nine innings. Likewise, when I get home, working with a partner becomes an adjustment for a game or two.
Today was a quick game. Lots of quick innings, which makes it tough to weave any stories into the game. I've been trying to think of ways to bring the free-flowing, conversation-that-might-go-anywhere style that Brian VanderBeek and myself usually have into a solo broadcast. Not easy though. Going solo for nine innings, I don't want too many stats, or overdo the placement of the defense, or rely on the out-of-town scoreboard. I want to weave stories and do a little of it all.
You need some long innings to do that. Brandon Hynick, our ace starting pitcher, gets so many quick innings because he throws so many strikes, that was impossible yesterday. After all, it took my four different half innings to get through the major league baseball out-of-town scoreboard.
Anyway, no complaints. It was "cow" day at Rec Park, so the fans brought lots of cowbells to the game. I wonder how it sounded on the radio. Visalia isn't the comfortable place to broadcast. But as long as it doesn't rain, it's all good.
Between innings, one fan came over and asked for my autograph. Honest.
"Do you even know who I am?" I asked him.
"I just know you're the announcer," he replied.
Thought about signing it Vin Scully or Harry Caray or Jon Miller, but settled for my own name.
The first few road games are always an adjustment because I'm solo for nine innings. Likewise, when I get home, working with a partner becomes an adjustment for a game or two.
Today was a quick game. Lots of quick innings, which makes it tough to weave any stories into the game. I've been trying to think of ways to bring the free-flowing, conversation-that-might-go-anywhere style that Brian VanderBeek and myself usually have into a solo broadcast. Not easy though. Going solo for nine innings, I don't want too many stats, or overdo the placement of the defense, or rely on the out-of-town scoreboard. I want to weave stories and do a little of it all.
You need some long innings to do that. Brandon Hynick, our ace starting pitcher, gets so many quick innings because he throws so many strikes, that was impossible yesterday. After all, it took my four different half innings to get through the major league baseball out-of-town scoreboard.
Anyway, no complaints. It was "cow" day at Rec Park, so the fans brought lots of cowbells to the game. I wonder how it sounded on the radio. Visalia isn't the comfortable place to broadcast. But as long as it doesn't rain, it's all good.
Packing for Visalia
Trying really hard to keep a positive attitude for this upcoming series in Visalia, which is not an easy task, especially at 7:45 on a Sunday morning. Bus leaves at 9:30 for about a three-hour ride. The game starts at 4 this afternoon.
In case you haven't read the blogs from the first trip to Visalia, here's the short version: no press box ... no roof ... froze one night ... sat in rain doing another game ... a bunch of drunks blocked part of my view in the last game and random people kept talking into my crowd mic ... oh yeah, and the hotel sucked. Beyond that, I loooooove Visalia.
At least packing isn't that hard. Four days. Three nights. Upper 90s is the expected high. Lower 60s is the low. Since the front office would prefer I wear a Nuts polo shirt every day, makes that decision easy. Throw in some shorts, a sweatshirt and shoes, and I'm done. I'll pack some workout shorts and shirt as well for the hotel, uhh, "gym" -- one treadmill and one stairmaster.
I need to find some paper weights and an umbrella for my outdoor "booth." The final game on Thursday is at 1 in the afternoon, and I'm sure the back of my neck will get cooked by the sun. At least I've packed my glove. Hopefully, I'll have time to shag some more flyballs in the outfield.
In case you haven't read the blogs from the first trip to Visalia, here's the short version: no press box ... no roof ... froze one night ... sat in rain doing another game ... a bunch of drunks blocked part of my view in the last game and random people kept talking into my crowd mic ... oh yeah, and the hotel sucked. Beyond that, I loooooove Visalia.
At least packing isn't that hard. Four days. Three nights. Upper 90s is the expected high. Lower 60s is the low. Since the front office would prefer I wear a Nuts polo shirt every day, makes that decision easy. Throw in some shorts, a sweatshirt and shoes, and I'm done. I'll pack some workout shorts and shirt as well for the hotel, uhh, "gym" -- one treadmill and one stairmaster.
I need to find some paper weights and an umbrella for my outdoor "booth." The final game on Thursday is at 1 in the afternoon, and I'm sure the back of my neck will get cooked by the sun. At least I've packed my glove. Hopefully, I'll have time to shag some more flyballs in the outfield.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Don't forget to breathe. Very important.
After two months, you'd think the surge of adrenaline would go away whenever I go on the radio, but it really hasn't. Tonight was another "joined in progress" game after Oakland A's baseball on AM 970, and maybe it was because I was going along smoothly in a normal broadcast, when all of a sudden the Modesto Nuts jingle gets pumped into headphones and I know that we're going from internet-only to live on the radio.
Quite the jolt or adrenaline rush. When this happens, the exact details of what's happening in the game become secondary. I try to recap what's happened in the game, and figure it's OK if I miss a pitch or two, as long as I keep up with actual plays.
Tonight, we went live in the middle of an inning. I'm pretty sure there was two outs in the bottom of the fifth inning, although my memory isn't so good. The San Jose pitching coach came to the mound within 30 second after we came on the radio, and that gave me the perfect chance to catchup the radio audience on what they'd missed.
Problem was, I was so amped with adrenaline, I was probably talking too fast. I'll have to listen again to be sure. Hopefully, I was still making sense. If nothing else, it wasn't healthy to say as much as I said without breathing.
After my recap, Brian VanderBeek -- our middle innings analyst from The Modesto Bee -- took a gigantic breath for me. He told me I can breathe now. It's like Beek is Miyagi-son from "The Karate Kid" for me: breath in, breath out, very important, Joshua-son.
Still need to work on my breathing, especially late in games. We went 12 innings tonight, and I felt afterward I was trying too hard to capture the perfect, dramatic, game-winning play. I think I've gotten much better at being laid back in the early innings, and not rushing my broadcast. I'm sure the "pacing" of my broadcast is still rushed at times, however, almost like I'm trying to do a baseball game with the rapid-fire intensity of a basketball game.
Using your voice to capture the drama is important, especially later in a baseball game. But since the game hung on every pitch from the eighth to the 12th, I was amping up on lots and lots of pitches, and felt totally exhausted at the end of the game. Oh yeah, as for that dramatic game-ending call ... the game ended on the most anti-climatic play possible ... a walkoff walk.
My friend David Feldman, a producer for A's baseball on TV, always told me what makes Ken Korach so good is his ability to go "low" at the really big moments -- and how that sounds so good. I know what Feldman means, but still have no clue how to do it myself.
Also had another thought tonight. This goes back to my post a few nights ago about how I could hear the San Jose announcer, Joe Ritzo, quite a bit because of how the press box is situated.
How much do the other announcers hear me?
Sure hope they don't leave town thinking they're glad that series is over, so they don't have to listen to me anymore. I really hope I wasn't overdoing it and distracting Joe. After the game tonight, Greg Young and I agreed we hear Joe more than any other announcers, but he's by no means a screamer. His voice just carries more and projects better.
We also agreed that, although we haven't heard all the announcers in the Cal League yet, we think Joe is the best so far.
Quite the jolt or adrenaline rush. When this happens, the exact details of what's happening in the game become secondary. I try to recap what's happened in the game, and figure it's OK if I miss a pitch or two, as long as I keep up with actual plays.
Tonight, we went live in the middle of an inning. I'm pretty sure there was two outs in the bottom of the fifth inning, although my memory isn't so good. The San Jose pitching coach came to the mound within 30 second after we came on the radio, and that gave me the perfect chance to catchup the radio audience on what they'd missed.
Problem was, I was so amped with adrenaline, I was probably talking too fast. I'll have to listen again to be sure. Hopefully, I was still making sense. If nothing else, it wasn't healthy to say as much as I said without breathing.
After my recap, Brian VanderBeek -- our middle innings analyst from The Modesto Bee -- took a gigantic breath for me. He told me I can breathe now. It's like Beek is Miyagi-son from "The Karate Kid" for me: breath in, breath out, very important, Joshua-son.
Still need to work on my breathing, especially late in games. We went 12 innings tonight, and I felt afterward I was trying too hard to capture the perfect, dramatic, game-winning play. I think I've gotten much better at being laid back in the early innings, and not rushing my broadcast. I'm sure the "pacing" of my broadcast is still rushed at times, however, almost like I'm trying to do a baseball game with the rapid-fire intensity of a basketball game.
Using your voice to capture the drama is important, especially later in a baseball game. But since the game hung on every pitch from the eighth to the 12th, I was amping up on lots and lots of pitches, and felt totally exhausted at the end of the game. Oh yeah, as for that dramatic game-ending call ... the game ended on the most anti-climatic play possible ... a walkoff walk.
My friend David Feldman, a producer for A's baseball on TV, always told me what makes Ken Korach so good is his ability to go "low" at the really big moments -- and how that sounds so good. I know what Feldman means, but still have no clue how to do it myself.
Also had another thought tonight. This goes back to my post a few nights ago about how I could hear the San Jose announcer, Joe Ritzo, quite a bit because of how the press box is situated.
How much do the other announcers hear me?
Sure hope they don't leave town thinking they're glad that series is over, so they don't have to listen to me anymore. I really hope I wasn't overdoing it and distracting Joe. After the game tonight, Greg Young and I agreed we hear Joe more than any other announcers, but he's by no means a screamer. His voice just carries more and projects better.
We also agreed that, although we haven't heard all the announcers in the Cal League yet, we think Joe is the best so far.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Getting out of A ball
Wish I had something interesting today or another lesson learned. But it was pretty much a nothing day. Modesto was clobbered 11-4. The broadcast wasn't fantastic. Wasn't bad. Felt it was solid. Confessed my "no doubt about it" from last night on the air. A few technical problems early in the broadcast were irritating, but it was just one of those days.
Now that I think about it, this was actually another day that makes me glad to no longer be a newspaper reporter. Watching, or broadcasting, a stinker of a game like that is one thing. But as a writer, you still need to craft out two stories that are compelling to readers. Sometimes it's about trends or what's wrong with a pitcher, and there's storylines available. Other days, it's just one of those days, and those are the hardest game stories to write.
One thing did get me thinking. In my daily chat with manager Jerry Weinstein, for the pregame show, we talked a lot about the hardest jumps to make in the minors. Jerry felt the jump from Single-A to Double-A is the hardest, outside of the jump to the majors. Double-A is considered the stud league. Only real prospects are in Double-A. Most players don't make it out of A-ball.
Makes me wonder if the same applies to broadcasters.
Now that I think about it, this was actually another day that makes me glad to no longer be a newspaper reporter. Watching, or broadcasting, a stinker of a game like that is one thing. But as a writer, you still need to craft out two stories that are compelling to readers. Sometimes it's about trends or what's wrong with a pitcher, and there's storylines available. Other days, it's just one of those days, and those are the hardest game stories to write.
One thing did get me thinking. In my daily chat with manager Jerry Weinstein, for the pregame show, we talked a lot about the hardest jumps to make in the minors. Jerry felt the jump from Single-A to Double-A is the hardest, outside of the jump to the majors. Double-A is considered the stud league. Only real prospects are in Double-A. Most players don't make it out of A-ball.
Makes me wonder if the same applies to broadcasters.
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