Anybody Know Who Won?

 

The evolving of the internet and social media has turned the world of communications upside down. Rural radio stations are disappearing from the dial at an alaraming rate. And we should all be concerned.

Small town radio stations are still a social facilitator; one of the key cornerstones of a supportive community; in essence, the town’s bulletin board. It keeps locals informed at home and at work, and that will never be replaced by impersonal web sites and blogs.

Gordon Sanders is the general manager of KJFM 102 radio in Louisiana, Missouri. “We are a family-owned business,” Sanders says. The station was started by his father over 40 years ago. The family has managed to this point in time to have fought off the corporate takeovers that have ravaged Small Town American radio.

“We are really doing very well,” Sanders says with pride. A man who has never known a life not lived in a radio studio readily admits the industry landscape, due to the internet and the World Wide Web, has changed drastically. “But we have embraced the Internet,” he explains. "The WWW is here to stay and complaining about it constantly,  sounds like nothing but sour grapes. We made the decision to stay local, but we have also embraced technology. We are proudly community minded. We live here.”

Sanders title might be General Manager, but he said that's a lot more flashy than  what is reality. He is not just being modest. “Like everybody else around here, I do a little bit of everything. I was here early this morning to do the morning show. I'll go back into the studio this afternoon and we'll update our cancellations. We've got bad weather moving in and all the ball games and other activities for tonight have been cancelled. The locals know they can count on us for accurate and timely information. We are never busier than when we've got a storm coming through.”

High School sports are a mainstay of any small-town radio station’s programing list. They pay the bills. KJFM 102, The Eagle, as they like to be known, will broadcast over 100 high school basketball, football, softball and baseball games this year, covering seven local schools. With a nod to modern technology, the audio of the game is accompanied with a live video stream. Commentary and play by play on at least three nights a week is provided by Jim Ross.

We all somewhere in adult life search for own little niche of Never-Never Land, where the starry-eyed kid within never dies. We all do it. Michael Jackson built a ranch with a ferris wheel. Jim Ross broadcasts basketball games. 

Ross worked Tuesday through Saturday of the recent Clopton Tournament, every game played in the high school gym for five straight days. That is a bladder-tortured twelve total games, most with no assistance. On the last night of action, he was joined by his son Brendan. “Working with my son is special,” said the 62 year old. “Brendan is an Associate with Stifel Nicholas in St. Louis with their Public Finance Department. So, he doesn’t have much time, but we do get to do a couple of weekend games a year together.” Maybe Oedipus had it wrong. Sometimes, nepotism is cool.

Ross spends his days at the Louisiana People's Bank and Trust where he mans the position of Senior Vice President. He is winding down a four-decade career in the banking industry. But his passion is high school sports. After a topnotch prep basketball and baseball career at nearby Elsberry High School, Ross decided to continue his basketball career at Central Methodist College in Fayette, MO.

“Coming out of high school I wanted to major in Journalism,” Ross recalled. He originally intended to enroll in the prestigious College of Journalism at the University of Missouri. “But I decided I still wanted to be an athlete, so I went to Central and played basketball. I changed my idea on a major to Business since Journalism was not an option at Central.”

After college graduation, Ross joined the ranks of high school basketball officials. He held that gig for 27 years, most overlapping with a seat in the broadcast booth. “I have been doing this (broadcasting) for 26 years. So, I am living out that dream and it has kept me in contact with the game.”

A basketball broadcaster at any level dreads a blowout. You had better be prepared to fill a lot of dead time. In the recent first round of the Clopton Tournament, Monroe City led Silex at half time by a score of 65-6. But Ross was ready. He said he feared a runaway was coming and was armed with a heavy dose of time filling side stories. “A blow out can be challenging,” Ross says, “but there are players out there still busting it and they deserve their due.”

Ross covers athletes who call home the same town he does. You watch what you say over the air on a Friday night broadcast when you could, on your Saturday morning coffee dash into Casey’s, be served by a cashier who last night wore the sneakers of a point guard.

A good play-by-play broadcaster, like a good referee, must be incisive and possess a deep knowledge of the game. As both a widely respected official and a popular broadcaster, Ross has for going on 30 years demonstrated both.

Ross’ boss at the radio station, Gordon Sanders, says Ross has earned his stellar reputation. “Listeners respect him because of the job he has done over many years,” says Sanders. “He will call for us two or three times a week and he will do it the nine months of the school year. We have guys that specialize in one particular season. Maybe their basketball Or maybe their football. Or maybe their the diamond sports, softball and baseball. But what's unique about Jim is he can do them all and he can do them all very well.”

Sanders notes Ross’ vast background and the many roles he has filled over the last 40 plus years. “The old timers remember when he played,” said Sanders. “Most all fans remember him officiating. And everybody in town knows who he is because of his position at the Bank. His pedigree is impeccable, well-earned and widely known,” says Sanders. “You could talk to a lot of people in this area and spend a couple of days doing it and I bet you won't find one who has anything negative to say about him. He'll be the first one to tell you he's not a professional broadcaster, he's a banker that just loves high school sports. But I will tell you with no hesitation, the performance he gives us on the air is very professional. He does his homework. He talks to coaches. He talks to athletic directors. He talks to players. I guess to sum it up, Jim knows what he's talking about.”

I would bet when Jim Ross was a kid, he had hidden under his bed a $10 transistor radio, a cheap pair of earphones and a stash of AA batteries. Together the trio could magically through the wonders of the AM airwaves carry into his darkened bedroom captivating far-off ball games. Sometimes, if the Cardinals were on the West Coast, the game would progress to way past bedtime and Mom’s patience. (Jack Buck and Harry Caray with the call from Dodger Stadium). I would also bet he had a cheap tape recorder into which he broadcast imaginary games to an audience of none.

It takes passion, dedication, and love to log a full adult workday before reverting to a Peter Pan world of eternal youth, spending six consecutive evenings broadcasting high school basketball games. “I love it, always have,” Ross says.

******

Problems normally arise when a basketball  official decides he or she is the show- the need to develop a distinctive style to get noticed and perhaps promoted. What is next? Referees with entourages, a Kardashian sister on each arm, rolling into the Clopton Tournament Hospitality Room for the best Chili on the tournament circuit?

I am the Rain Man when it comes to officials. I like a narrow focus, keep me in my comfort zone and the rest of the world can stay away. I just want to watch the boys play basketball, oblivious to who is blowing the whistle. 

There will always be tension between the guys stomping the sidelines in the flashy warmup gear and the guys in polyester prison stripes. Coaching is how a coach feeds his family, whereas most refs, who for sure work very hard at their craft for little pay, are moonlighting, picking up a little extra pocket change and gas money between their real job’s` duties. Sometimes this causes a problem, the guy who has a vocation on the line thinking the guy enjoying his avocation is not taking the game serious enough. But not often. 

As I walk into the Clopton Gym between semifinal games, I spot standing at mid court Ronnie Richardson. We both used to have a lot more hair. This will be, he informs me, his 47th season of officiating high school basketball games.

Ronnie is my kind of an official, a hard-as-tungsten work ethic and an engaging personality. “Got the Covid last year,” he tells me. “Ended up in the hospital for five days but I was back officiating two weeks later.” Ronnie lives in northeast Missouri. How long does it take you to drive down here I ask? “Oh, a little over two hours.”

Ronnie officiates for the right reason, he enjoys it. He is a main cog in a system that has benefited countless boys and girls over the 47 years he has served them. He is still able to get up and down the floor very well, always hustling and always in position. His longevity may now get him notoriety, but he has been for years, and still is, a very good official. You would need both hands to count the times over the years Ronnie rang me up. That’s ok. I earned every one of them.

After the game we visited at midcourt. Ronnie tells me that long time Northeast Missouri basketball official Jim Brumback had passed away. On a similar brutally cold winter night over 30 years ago in the hospitality room during the Monroe City Tournament, legendary official “Big George” Thompson, with his normal rueful candor, and a young Brumback, whose own dad had partnered with Big George for years, told an assembled crowd of coaches, officials, and area basketball junkies of a game they had called years before over in the Quincy, IL area.

The visiting team was down one point and had the ball out of bounds with four seconds left in regulation play. It was a bandbox gym packed to the rafters. The game had been a rough one and the boisterous crowd had been spilling all night on to the playing floor. It was a Friday night, and the smell of alcohol permeated the smoke-filled gym. As the visitors launched a potential game winning last second shot, a fan of the home team threw a coat over the rim of the basket. The ball hit the coat at the same time as the game ending buzzer sounded, bounding off the rim and harmlessly away. (Try to find that one in the rule book). All eyes were now on Big George, the trail official and the one who had to make the call. He motioned to his partner, Brumback Sr., to follow and both sprinted to the locker room. Once in the safety of their private dressing area, Big George made his ruling, sort of. “Let them figure it out,” he told his partner. “Dad had to check the paper the next day to see who won,” laughed Brumback.