I was in San Francisco with the Texas Rangers for a series against the Oakland A's....given the time difference, I was still asleep when the phone rang. It was my broadcast partner, Vince Cotroneo, calling to tell me to turn on the TV. The second tower had just come down. I immediately got on the phone with my wife, Jeannie, in Dallas, as we watched CNN together more than 1,000 miles apart.
Once it was announced that our game that night was postponed, the media crew following the Rangers met in a nearby restaurant to process what was going on and I can never remember a more sombre group.
After hanging around for a couple of hours having no idea what to do, I just hit the streets and walked aimlessly for hours, in a trance-like stupor. Up hills. Down hills. I eventually wound up on top of a hill, staring out at the bay, until it started getting dark.
My thoughts were largely with my mother and sister in New York. My mother sat on her balcony every afternoon looking at the twin towers and the lower Manhattan skyline. I knew she would be reminded of this day every day for the rest of her life. And my sister worked in lower Manhattan not far from the towers. I wondered how her life would change given her penchant for helping others and her qualifications as a psychologist and a healer. Many of my childhood friends and cousins still lived in New York and I wondered about them, too, knowing that my life many miles away would not be nearly as affected.
Fifteen years later I am extremely proud of how they all reacted to this tragedy. I wish I could have been more of a help to those more directly impacted, but comforted by the idea that what I do, broadcasting baseball games, has allowed many to get their minds of the horror for the few hours a day I am on the air.