Balancing Act: The Bugs and the Booth

I spent most of my adult life chasing my broadcasting aspirations. Across the country, level by level and to the brink of my own destruction. I didn’t care. It became an all-consuming ambition, the goal of which I lost track of a long time ago. I was proud of what I had accomplished in baseball and in broadcasting., and I tried to turn back and mentor those behind me, as I had been mentored by great people in the early days of my career.

But the the literal and figurative road also had taken a lot from me. My youth, my optimism and most importantly, connections to loved ones and close friends. I missed everything in the name of pursuing this seemingly unobtainable goal. Broadcasting is a highly-competitive, oftentimes even cruel industry. It washes people out. It hardens those that remain. The idyllic version that you see and hear on game days is often not the same version that exists otherwise. That was true for me.  I became at times singularly focused and easily frustrated. I was at times, for lack of a better term, a selfish prick. I am not proud of that. I can blame countless rejections, internalized pressure or a million other reasons, but the bottom line is, I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I hadn’t accomplished what I had set out to be. Someone who loved sports and the art of calling them to a fanbase that cared passionately. My life had no balance. I had put all my stock into not only making it, but also this idea of being universally liked. The best there ever was. Problem is, that is subjective to everyone. It is in fact literally unobtainable.

With no balance, things that were fun and the reason for doing the job, became not just a burden, but a detriment. The thrills of the positive moments wore off a lot quicker than the frustrations of the negative ones. The juice was no longer worth the squeeze.

Shortly before I moved to Blacksburg, I started dating Renée. It was long-distance at first, but as we got more serious, we quickly realized that she was going to have to move to Blacksburg in order for it to work. This was a selfish ask on my part of course, but it seemed the obvious one at the time. I had just gotten a dream job, was making good money and could support us both comfortably. But there’s the problem. Renée didn’t need to be supported financially, she needed to be fulfilled professionally. Which is where the selfish part comes in.

She had a great career of her own going in sports, which is where we had met in the first place. She is a Philly-girl who grew up in the city and thrives on its energy. And opportunity. While Blacksburg is a phenomenal community, and we made countless lifelong friends there, it lacks that energy away from game day. In terms of Renée’s career path and passion, it also certainly lacked the opportunities. Virginia Tech was really the only game in town. Renée’s expertise was in professional sports. The fit just wasn’t there. As is her way, she tried to make the best of it and put on a brave face. She took jobs that were well outside of her passion and tried to be happy in them. To be honest, I wouldn’t have done that. The planning of our wedding and marriage distracted us for a time, and I naively thought that the opportunity we were looking for would magically appear. It obviously wasn’t going to, but such is denial and again naivety.

The thing is, she always wanted me to keep building on what we had accomplished. But for once, I started to see something beyond my own ambition. Actually a couple of things. Her fulfillment, in our marriage sure, but also in her own life. And also that we were no longer maximizing the gifts that we each had individually, but to a greater extent even, what we could be if we truly merged our abilities together. As the years went by, I could no longer deny her the opportunity to find fulfillment in her life. She is six years younger than me, and I knew that time in a professional career is critical. Again, she never pushed me that way, but the pandemic did.

As the days stopped going by quickly, we had real time for reflection, and planning. We visualized what we could accomplish in the interest of helping the mental health mission, and also what it might look like if we combined forces. I had pie-in-the-sky visions of creating a dual role for myself where I could work full-time, but also keep broadcasting on the side. I had never had a broadcasting gig that wasn’t all-encompassing, but I knew that they existed. We took that chance.

The result is the Ladybugs. A return to family and previously left behind community. A return to Richmond. The discovery and fast addiction to Pickleball. Here we drive into work together. I think big. She thinks correctly. I design. She writes. I spend money on balloons for events. She reluctantly lets me. We have found a groove together while we use both of our talents. It is hard. Really hard. We’ve already made a lot of mistakes. But we’ve also had successes, and those give a feeling of satisfaction that I hadn’t felt in broadcasting in a number of years.

And then it happened. The opportunity. National Sports Network is a national radio network run by another person who thinks big. James Westling is his name, and he had an idea for a company, and how to build it. Most importantly, he liked my work and also what we are doing with the Ladybugs. A couple of conversations led to a role with his network. Exactly what we had hoped. Broadcasting on the side while running the Ladybugs full-time. Too good to be true possibly. And then it wasn’t.

I returned to the football booth last weekend for Tennessee at Pittsburgh. But I didn’t just return. It was my first national broadcast. Another of my former career goals. Even better, I got to bring along a young man I had mentored in broadcasting, Luther Maddy. He was a standout football player at Tech, but beyond that is just an awesome person. And he was a natural in the booth. Crushed it as we say. Better yet, I got to invite one of my mentors, Jason Dambach, to spot for me. “JD” as I call him had hired me as his intern in Altoona, PA, back in 2007. He’s a huge Pitt fan, and we have remained great friends through the years. I could tell the day meant a lot to him. It meant more to me. But the best part of it all. Rather than leave Renée behind as I had for years when I left for road games, she came with us. Not because she’s my wife, but because she’s a badass who knows football better than just about anyone. And we needed a statistician. So there we were, back in a familiar stadium, with an already tight-knit crew. It was an awesome Saturday.

And then it was Monday, and we were right back here working on events for the Ladybugs. While we were sweating small details, major pieces had fallen into place for what we hope our lives will be. Balanced. I’m not sure there is a better feeling than that.

Hard things lie ahead, but so do more Ladybug events, donations to be made and games to be called. NC State at Clemson is next for us. And a mini-golf tournament and cornhole tournament quickly follow. Yes, that is our life now. And it is awesomely weird…and balanced.