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If you’re fortunate enough, you can trace back to the little moments that shaped your future. For me, it was a ā€œspecial time in a special place.ā€ I was 17, decided to get serious about life, but that if I had to do this whole ā€œwork thing,ā€ I might as well reach for the stars and do what I wanted, right? Somehow, I wanted to call baseball games for a living. A dream that was a lump of clay back then was molded with the help of many, but Bob Ahrens was my first true mentor in play-by-play, journalism…and life. He was my greatest school teacher who never taught me in a class room, but inside Fordham’s WFUV Radio. We lost Bob on Wednesday as he passed peacefully at 89.

I’ve often valued the notion that we hold the pen to our own story, but mentors help you frame the moments. Bob helped countless people frame their moments through loyalty, devotion and persistence. Boy, did he fight and pound the table, but never for himself. Always for the betterment of his kids. He would show you true drive. He would be your biggest cheerleader and believe in you when it was difficult to see how you could ever believe in yourself. I met my closest friends in life because of Bob. We learned what it meant to be great teammates and show up for each other in a cut-throat industry, and even more so outside of it. We all grew old with a teacher long after our days in school. His words and moments (and one-of-one mannerisms šŸ˜‚) will stay with me, and for that I’m blessed.

Bob was born & raised in Brooklyn, loved the Dodgers, and it’s fair to say he will be eternally crushed they left for LA after 1957. Of Ebbets Field, he’d often say (in his distinct delivery) how ā€œit was a special time. In a special place.ā€ 

So was learning your wisdom, Bob. Of the craft. Of life.
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