From Baseball to News...how it began

The Accidental Broadcaster

I never thought I’d go into television. It was the furthest thing from my mind. If anything, I figured that when I was done with professional baseball, I’d end up as a play-by-play guy on the radio—breaking down how the lumbering firstbaseman got his hands through the zone to turn on that inside fastball, driving it down the first base line and tearing up a chunk of Kentucky bluegrass as it bounded into the corner.

For me, my whole childhood revolved around sports, and baseball had always been number one. I didn’t think much about doing anything else, though I’d always loved to read and had a curiosity about the world.

Funny how life works, though. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life throws you one of those big, slow curveballs. For you non-baseball fans, that’s the same feeling you get when you walk into a class you’re acing and the teacher hands out a test you forgot all about. You thought you were prepared—until suddenly, you weren’t.

My college coach, Andy Lopez, used to quote a line he loved:

“There’s a famous book—buy it, tear out the first page, and that’s all you need. In fact, tear down the first page and just keep the first line: Life is difficult. Period.”

I’d like to concur with Coach Lopez—and maybe add a few subpoints of my own. “Difficult” is relative. While nothing’s ever been handed to me, I’ve been blessed with great parents, loyal friends, and a family that worked hard for everything they achieved. Nothing came easy for them—but that hard work paid off.

So yeah, television came by accident. A blessed accident. And I never forgot that as I worked my way up to the network level in just four years—without an agent.

It started after I was released from Double-A baseball, just two steps from the majors. I’d been pitching well, but at 25, I knew I was going to be “that guy on the bubble” every year. That’s when the Brewers called me into the office and handed me my release papers—even though I’d pitched well—it forced a tough decision, one players always dread, but yet always comes.

Driving from spring training in Arizona back to Northern California, as my teammates reported to new teams, I started to question everything. When would my baseball dream end? Was this it? What would I do next? This was the first time in my life where I didn’t truly have a race with a finish line.

A few teams called that week, showing some interest, and a club in Spain even offered me a contract. They’d pay me, cover housing, and fly me around Europe to play. I figured, why not? It might be a great way to end my career—playing ball in Europe.

And then—out of nowhere—a friend called about a TV opening in Chico, California. Market 120 at the time (out of 210), Chico had a small NBC station looking for someone new. I knew a few people who’d gone into sports broadcasting, and starting in California was almost unheard of. Most people began in the middle of nowhere—somewhere so cold their hair froze in the winter.

So I did the most unlikely thing you can do when trying to get into television: I sent my only tape to an open job in California—a place where I knew absolutely no one. That tape was edited in a friend’s father’s living room—he was a wedding videographer who helped me slap it together. Not exactly the Hollywood route.

In my rush to get it mailed, I forgot to include my résumé and rundown. When I realized, I called the secretary (who I later sent flowers to) and she kindly printed it out and slipped it into the tape box. Maybe that little bit of extra effort got it an extra look—but that wasn’t the plan.

A couple of days later, the phone rang. On the line was the News Director at NBC Chico—KCPM at the time—who also doubled as the station’s main weather guy. He wanted to interview me, but there was a catch: I had one day to decide. The same day I was supposed to send my passport to Spain.

So, timing being what it is, I made the 2½-hour drive to Chico for the interview. If you know me, you know I’m not shy about talking—but in this meeting, I was surprisingly quiet. We walked around downtown Chico as he peppered me with questions, telling stories along the way. He did about 90% of the talking. Then, while we waited at a crosswalk on the way back to the station, he turned to me and asked, “So, do you have any questions for me?”

I shot back: “Yeah. My tape sucked. Why am I here?”

He chuckled, lifted his sunglasses, and said, “You’re right—your tape wasn’t great. But your stand-ups were solid. I’ve already got a gay news guy, a nerdy news guy, and three women reporters. I need a straight guy who can do news—and maybe fill in for sports. I think you’re it.”

It sounds funny now, 27 years later—and a little shocking—but that’s how I got hired. Not because I had experience or connections, but because I could talk on camera and fit a role he needed filled. It was a blunt response and caught me off guard, but absolutely fit the narrative about how news directors filled their staffs.

From that day forward, I hustled. I knew this was a gift I couldn’t take for granted. I worked every extra shift, showed up early, stayed late, and volunteered for everything. This was small-market TV, which meant I was my own cameraman, editor, and producer. I shot my own video, edited my own stories, and learned on the fly.

It paid off. Within a year, I got a job in Santa Rosa at a small independent station. I did the same thing—showed up early, stayed late, pitched stories, and hustled like crazy. I ended up on the CNN feed several times. That led to Sacramento… and then Fox News. Network in four years—without an agent.

Funny thing is, baseball prepared me for all of it. Living out of a bag. Constant travel. Working with people from every walk of life. Long hours, unpredictable schedules, and adapting to chaos. I loved it. Every day was different.

How I went from local to national—that’s another story entirely.

At the time, I was in Sacramento, dreaming of a Bay Area job. My family’s been in the Bay for six generations, and it was home. I’d had a few interviews, but one News Director told me, “I hire 45-year-old men and 25-year-old women. Come back when you look 45.” Problem was at this point, I was 29—and looked younger.

Then one day, I got a call from my buddy at the news desk. “Can you come in early?” he asked. It was kind of our running joke—because I always said yes and seemingly every day he called. This time, it was for a stabbing. Not exactly my favorite assignment.

Turns out, the reason I was called in early was because the reporter scheduled to cover it still had rollers in her hair—again. So I grabbed my gear and headed out, grumbling the whole way and making sure my buddy knew he owed me a beer, golf, or something.

When I got to the scene the story began to explode. It quickly became a major story. I gathered all the details as they came. A manhunt was underway and there were sadly multiple victims. That’s when the call came—from Fox News Channel. They needed a live report because their reporter was running late. My news director at my station in Sacramento gave the okay, and I did my first-ever live shot for Fox News.

That led to three more reports over the next few weeks, and after the fourth one, I came home to a message on my answering machine. It was late and another long day, but that red light flashed. Yep dating myself on this one, but if you had one of those machines you know what I mean. Flash...flash. I clicked on it and it was someone from Fox in New York asking if I could call them back.

When I did the next day, they asked if I had an agent and if I’d be open to a move to the network. It all happened fast. Before I knew it, there were phone meetings and then I was driving to San Francisco for an in person meeting—and then I was hired.

No agent. Just hard work, a little luck, and a lot of help from great people along the way.

Over the next 17 years, I’d cover some of the biggest stories on earth. Both tsunamis. The Chilean miners. The Haiti earthquake. The Boston bombing. The San Bernardino terror attack. Twelve hurricanes, including Katrina. The Middle East, Pakistan, Iraq, Japan, Korea, Mexico—you name it.

When I left, one of my bosses told me no other network correspondent had covered more major stories in person than I had. I don’t know if that’s true, but it sure felt like it and I’m pretty confident she is right.

I was blessed. To see history up close. To meet people from every walk of life—famous and not. To go from trials to terror attacks, from war zones to “American Idol.” Back then, we really covered everything. But that changed. Eventually, TV news became more about opinions in front of green screens than boots on the ground.

Yes the business has changed. The gear’s smaller, the barriers lower, and anyone with a phone can broadcast. It’s easier—and harder—than ever before. Standards have slipped, competition’s exploded, and the old-school grind I came up on feels like another era.

Still, I’m grateful. For every person who helped me along the way, from Chico to Santa Rosa to Sacramento. They know who they are.

So now, after all that—after the curveballs, the detours, and the luck—I get to look back, take a breath, and share these chapters in life...along with a lot of new ones.