The Power Of Inclusion (The 3rd of 5)

I held no aspiration to be an announcer. Ever. It was about as far from my top ten life goals as imaginable.

Medical school. A pediatric neurologist. “Here I am, to save the day!” A doctor with a cape. I liked the image.

Law school. An attorney specializing in cases involving children and teenagers. I may have watched too much MATLOCK as a kid.

So much for life plans. I landed in the world of theatre and music. It was fun. I wasn’t bad. Applause is addictive.

Radio and public speaking. Wake Forest called. The voice of the Demon Deacons.

My mother was excited. She wanted me to be the announcer for the Dallas Cowboys. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. She wanted tickets to see the Dallas Cowboys.

I composed a bucket list.

As a child, Saturday mornings were reserved for the Fintstones, Scooby-Doo and SOUL TRAIN. Don Cornelius was the man.

Number one on the bucket list? I want to be the announcer for the opening segment of SOUL TRAIN, whenever it returns to network television. (I am certain it will return.) I’d resort to blackmail and other immoral acts to get that job.

Number two. The stadium announcer for the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympic games. I’m holding onto hope for 2028 in Los Angeles.

Number three. The ACC tournament. It’s the best college basketball tournament in America. I believe it’s better than the Final Four. I grew up watching the games during school on that fateful Friday in March. For me, it is the pinnacle of sports announcing.

A few years ago, somebody from the ACC called Wake Forest University and asked for my telephone number. I got a warning call from an anonymous source in the athletic department.

Sure enough, my cell phone soon rang. It was the Atlantic Coast Conference. “We’re looking for an announcer for the tournament and we’ve been to games in Winston-Salem. We also know you’re busy, so we’re concerned about your availability.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. Yes, I’m interested. Yes, I’m willing. And my availability is to be wherever you need me, whenever you need me. How can I help?”

A dream come true. Literally. I was excited. My feet hardly touched the ground in the days leading to the end of the regular season.

It wasn’t the Dallas Cowboys, but, short of SOUL TRAIN and the Olympics, this was IT.

The ACC folks were incredibly kind. And prepared. And patient. And encouraging. It was a world-class experience. I had lunch with Phil Ford on the first day.

Gary Strickland and Dan Collins took me to the post-game media room at the hotel. I couldn’t believe I was in the room with all those famous people. They called me by name. The director from ESPN wanted to meet and talk about the introductions for the championship game.

Another year in Greensboro and another tournament. There is nothing like the big show. They asked me to announce the tournament in Washington D.C. the following season.

“Yes. Of course.”

The ACC people were the best. I wrote thank you notes after each tournament. They wrote back. I may not be the best public address announcer in the world. I make a mistake every now and then. But, I try. I do the best I can. My goal is to be the finest announcer in the world every time I sit behind a microphone. Nobody expects more than I expect of myself, and I’m nearly impossible to please.

Off to Brooklyn. “We have to use the arena announcer due to the union, so we don’t need you in New York.”

It was hard to hear, but, it is what it is. I was sad.

Two years later, the ACC headed to Charlotte. “We’re going to use the Hornets staff.” O.K.

“Do you need me to work in the media room? Anything?”

“No. We’ve got it covered, but thank you.”

2020. Back to Greensboro. I’ve had the tournament marked on my calendar for a year. I hadn’t messed up. I’m not high-maintenance. Greensboro is right down the road.

Not a word. Silence. I reached out. “I’m available if y’all need me. I would love to be a part of the tournament. I’ll do anything to help.” No response.

As I understand it, the league hired a professional wrestling announcer from Charlotte to help call the games.

Yes. I am heart-broken.

To have never had it and never know what it is like is one thing. To have been the voice at center court and lose it is something else.

It’s a ballgame, but it is so much more to me. I don’t collect a big paycheck. I have earned no title. I’m a man. I’m not the greatest at anything. At the end of my life, I wish my children could say, “Our daddy was the best…” something. Anything.

For a while, I thought I would retire after 30 years of calling the ACC tournament. Sophia and Miles will be able to tell their children about the family legend on Tobacco Road.

So much for that. I watch the games on television because I can’t afford a book of tickets.

The failure is mine. Included. Excluded. Looking in from the outside.

“They will say, ‘You started building, but could not finish the job.’” – Luke 14:30

I am left to wonder how, or when, I was uninvited from the nation’s premiere college basketball tournament. It’s not easy to find out you aren’t good enough.

A friend said, “You can’t take it personally.”

Well, I do.

I could not finish the job. I doubt SOUL TRAIN executives or the Los Angeles Olympic committee will call, either. It would be nice. Maybe I can take Miles to see the Cowboys. Maybe.