Among people I know, it seems everybody settled in with their favorite event (figure skating, ice dancing or snowboarding, generally, and in my case, ice hockey) and made the coverage on NBC or MSNBC part of their evening routine the past couple weeks.  Then again, I realize there is a dissenting viewpoint out there that couldn’t care less  (e.g., my father-in-law called my wife after the first weekend to say, “Tired of the Olympics yet?”).

Ryan Miller was a deserving MVP in men’s hockey.  And dream, Blackhawk fans, of how easily he could have been OUR #1 goalie right now.  In the 1999 NHL draft, he was available until the 5^th round, when he was taken by Buffalo.  With Miller still on the board, the Hawks chose the eminently forgettable Steve McCarthy, Dmitri Levinski, Stepan Mokhov, and Michael Jacobsen instead of Miller for four rounds.  True, the Hawks weren’t the only ones who whiffed on Miller, but wouldn’t your feelings going into the playoffs be a lot different with him between the pipes?

Televising the action during the three periods commercial-free—thanks to a deal with DirecTV—was fantastic.  Unless you actually attend a game, you never get to see what the players do during extended TV timeouts. Luongo, for instance, never hesitated to skate over to his bench, lift up his mask and grab some refreshment.  You could see the strain on his face the whole game during the extended breaks.

I’ve become captivated by curling.  It’s an odd activity and questionable as a real “sport” in the same way archery, golf and bowling are—to me, they seem much more a skill than a sport.  No matter, I surprised myself by not being bored watching either the men’s or women’s competition  in curling.

I don’t like the idea of the televising network’s exclusivity on the rights to action footage from the games.  Still photos are fine for ESPN The Magazine, but in the television world of technical bells and whistles, they fall very flat.  And that’s all the other networks can use.

I have trouble with the idea that, in keeping the medals count for the individual nations, gold, silver and bronze medals are considered equal in scoring.  For instance, this was the final count we saw in the paper this morning:

USA – 37 (9 Gold, 15 Silver, 13 Bronze)

Germany – 30 (10 Gold, 13 Silver, 7 Bronze)

Canada – 26 (14 Gold, 7 Silver, 5 Bronze)

Gold medals should be worth more than silver, which should be worth more than bronze in the medal standings–something like gold medals 3 points, silver medals 2 and bronze medals 1. That would give us this revised scoreboard:

USA – 70 points

Germany – 63 points

Canada – 61 points

The rankings haven’t changed, but the extra Golds push Canada closer to second place.  And, if you think all medals should be considered equal in merit, ask Duncan Keith if he wouldn’t mind trading his for Patrick Kane’s.

The gold medal game had all the drama you’d want in a finale–it was outstanding.  The fact that it got a 23.4 rating in Chicago–which put it in Bears territory–didn’t surprise me in the least.

Watching the Caribbean World Series in Venezuela this weekend gave me an appreciation for Major League Baseball’s regulations on what’s permissible on big league uniforms, caps and helmets.  The players down there are all walking eyesores, covered from head to toe with a jumble of advertising logos.  Worst of all, it looks like every player seems to have the same name.  On the backs of all their jersey tops, above the number, it said “Coca-Cola” on Saturday, “Orange” on Sunday.

Sure, the Blackhawks won Saturday night.  But they should’ve had a shutout.  Campbell’s stupid penalty, taken behind the play, combined with Sopel’s bonehead unsportsmanlike conduct call 26 seconds later, gave the Blues a two-man advantage, which led to the goal which ended Niemi’s bid for his fifth shutout.

Richard Dent didn’t make it this time around.  But, unlike MLB, at least the NFL’s Board of Selectors aren’t shy about putting people into their Hall.

My brother-in-law’s constantly on the prowl for Blackhawks tickets.  He tells me he’s being priced out of the market now, even when it comes to regular season “cheap” seats in the 300 level.  I’ll tell you:  the closer the tickets get to the $200 mark, the more attractive my own private box becomes.  Washroom and refreshments just a few steps away with never any waiting, free parking and climate-controlled perfection—my living room.

With Ryne Sandberg’s being the most likely candidate to succeed Lou Piniella when Lou’s deal expires, it sets up the possibility of a grand ’84 Cubs reunion on the field in ’11.  Ryno could tap Sarge Matthews, Zonk Moreland and Bob Dernier as coaches.  By the way, Ryno deserves a shot at the top job.

On the one hand, seeing how quickly the Blackhawks turned around their fortunes gives me some hope for the Bears.  On the other, what did it take for the Hawks to make the big leap forward?  A change at the very top of the organization.  Somehow, I don’t think that’s a scenario we can count on at Halas Hall anytime soon.

What did I like most about the Super Bowl?  Two things.  First, that we can refer to it by its true name here (not “The Big Game,” which is just plain silly, if you ask me).  Second, how could I ever quarrel about a sporting event that starts at 5:30 and is completely over with by 9:00?  (This is a point I wouldn’t have made—say—twenty years ago when I was a wee bit more youthful, by the way.)

On my list of life’s daily annoyances, spam should rank very low.  Thanks to the delete key, it should be nothing more than an inconsequential blip in my day.  Yet, annoy is what it does, because in some strange way it gets into my head and forces me to expend more energy thinking about it than it I should.  I’ll explain.

One of the emailboxes I check each day is connected to an old AOL email address from my years at WNUA.  I haven’t found a personal message there for awhile now, but since it’s still an active address, I check it compulsively every day.  One hundred percent of the messages I find there is junk email—it’s all spam, in other words.  Yet, less than half of it gets automatically sent to the spam folder, and that bothers me.  It’s obvious that the spam filter at AOL needs to be improved.  A spam filter that’s less than 50% effective is worthless, if you ask me, since you still have to do the work of deleting everything it lets slip past.

Then there are the experts always telling you how to minimize the amount of spam you get.  Somehow, though, they never seem to warn you about what can really cause spam to pile up in your mailbox:  things that require you to create an online paper trail, such as being a college student in the internet age.  My wife used to get very little spam.  That is, until she started taking classes at UIC.  After she registered for her classes, bought the necessary textbooks and opened various accounts on Blackboard and the like, she started getting a ton of spam—40-50 unsolicited messages on most days.

There is one thing I find amusing about spam, and it’s something that really hasn’t changed since the beginning:  the poor spelling and generally atrocious grammar.  I suspect companies that spam aren’t recruiting from the top of any graduating class.

Whenever a radio format is around for a long time, there’s a lot of good music that doesn’t get played.  It boils down to a numbers game:   too many titles, not enough time to play them all.  In the case of Smooth Jazz, it’s 24 years’ worth (!) of new releases, over a thousand titles in just the new releases pile alone—not including all the  standards such as “Breezin’” and “Winelight” that were around even before the format was born in 1987.  No radio station could ever sustain itself with a playlist that lengthy, because the best tunes, the ones listeners want to hear over and over, couldn’t possibly rotate around fast enough.

So, what’s a radio station to do with all those extra titles that would still sound good on the air but for which it has no more room?  Sadly, no matter what the format, these titles usually get relegated to what we call an “icebox” category, never to see the light of day again.

That’s always bothered me, because the Smooth Jazz genre is filled with some wonderfully distinctive music that we never put on the air anymore.  By folks such as Dan Siegel,  Shakatak,  Dancing Fantasy and  Rodney Franklin, for instance.  Songs and artists that would make you go, “Wow—I haven’t heard that in ages.”

For a long time I’ve been wrestling with the idea of finding a way to resurrect these gems and give them some airplay in the proper context, and here’s what I’ve come up with:  a new feature on my show, called “Rick O’Dell Remembers.”   Starting next Monday, February 1, I’ll be going deep into the Smooth Jazz vault and selecting one vintage track to play every day at 11:00 a.m.

I know we can have some fun with this feature, jogging your memory a bit each day.  And, along the way, I’ll be open to requests.  Feel free to suggest a favorite ol’ tune or two you haven’t heard in a long time, and I’ll see what I can do.  Email me at:  Rick@WLFM877.com or post your requests in the In Box at the station website.

(Ask me sometime to go into more detail about character actors.  I’ve always been fascinated by them on several levels.)

Character actors have always fascinated me.  The best ones seem to turn up again and again in movies and TV shows.  But they all share a common trait:  they’re able to completely transform themselves into the different roles and characters they’re asked to play, infusing each with a unique personality and, quite often, a completely different look.

In our time, Stephen Tobolowsky has been my definition of character actor.  From his hilarious portrayal of Tor Eckman, Kramer’s half-bubble-off-plumb holistic healer in Seinfeld to the eccentric Dr. Alvin Azinabinacroft in Boston Legal to the creepy, Josh Groban-obsessed Sandy Ryerson on Glee, he’s made the rounds of a typical character actor and created several unforgettable personas out of supporting characters, not always a simple task

I’ve come to learn that there’s another dimension to Mr. Tobolowsky’s uncommon performing talent.  He is also an incredible storyteller.  The other day, doing some pleasure-surfing of the web, I came across this site:  www.TobolowskyFiles.com.  On it you’ll find the actor musing across a wide range of subjects: the politics he encountered while a student in drama at the University of Illinois, for example; working with director Paul Verhoeven; and the vicissitudes of life’s ups and downs.

His stories are captivating and often hilarious and profound.  They’re not short, either.  Some go on for 40-45 minutes.  But don’t let me scare you off.  Steven Tobolowsky, the storyteller, is worth every minute you can spend with him.  In fact, as soon as my shift is over today, I’m going to click on and listen some more.

Yesterday I began sharing a few glimpses into my life during the past twelve months after leaving WNUA.  Today we continue with a few more.

I enjoyed the experience of . . .

Taking the Brown Line into work at AccuRadio each day.  Getting reacquainted with the heart of the northwest side neighborhoods through which the L rumbled each day was some happy sightseeing for me.  And now I know exactly where the famous Dinkel’s Bakery is.

Watching Jeopardy. My wife, our dog and I quickly got into a 3:30 TV routine.

Getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the new Busch Stadium, courtesy of my friend, John Rooney of the St. Cardinals. It’s a fantastic park with state-of-the-art amenities benefiting both fans and players.  This is how good we could have it here, and it reinforced the notion that the Cubs are being stifled by tradition, sentimentality and an aging, long outmoded structure as far as Wrigley Field is concerned.  In the long run, they’re much better off tearing down Wrigley Field and building a brand new ballpark on the same site.  It’ll be better for the team; it’ll be better for the fans.  And, if they do it right, no one will miss the old Wrigley.  By the way, this is coming from a lifelong fan of the Cubs.

Going to Disney for the first time ever. I’d never been to any Disney park in my life; I found it a trip into unreality (in a good way), much like a trip to Las Vegas.

Getting out and riding a bicycle on a sunny summer day.

Meeting for lunch on a regular basis lots of radio friends, most of whom (sadly) were also looking for work. Host the midday show, and you never get to do lunch.  That was the case for me for more than twenty years. I made up for lost time in a hurry, taking advantage of the $6.99 Angus burger lunch special on Tuesdays at Emerald Loop more often than I care to admit.

I learned . . .

With Facebook, you’re never alone.  The last time I was in between jobs, in 1989, it was just me and Rolly, the cat, all day long.  Facebook and email have totally changed our world.

Never has part-time work felt so good.  I was one of the lucky ones, getting even a few scattered hours here and there in radio, because the market had completely dried up.  And, when the opportunity at 87.7 presented itself in December, it was truly a blessing.

Both Internet radio and over-the-air radio can grow market share more quickly if they’d become partners, not competitors. Internet radio needs the experience and leadership of veterans of over-the-air radio.  Conversely, over-the-air radio needs to pry into the minds of the out-of-the-box thinkers who are creatively driving internet radio.

My wife is truly the Chairwoman and CEO of the household. Between housekeeping, home maintenance, trips to the vet and appliance repairs, a HECK of a lot happens each day that I don’t know of while I’m away at work.  I still don’t know how she gets it all done, especially with her own work and school responsibilities.

I’m not sure if I’d like to go through another year like 2009 again, but it sure did seem to have its moments.

Has it been a year already?  Last January 20, a few hours before the new President was to take his oath of office on the steps of the Capitol, my boss told me I had done my final show on WNUA.  At that moment, 2009 became a year of upheaval and uncertainty.  In that year I ended up learning a few things and experiencing a few simple and not-so-simple pleasures that I thought I’d put into writing today and tomorrow.

First, I learned the experts were right when it comes to . . .

The internet and social media as all-powerful job search tools.  Two positions that were offered to me (including this one at 87.7) were facilitated by email and/or instant messaging.  Another part-time position was the direct result of having a presence on Facebook.

Networking.  It took both what and whom I knew that led to each of the jobs I’ve had, part- and full-time, since last January.  Networking wasn’t just important, it was critical.

The resume as a secondary tool.  When I left WNUA, I decided to have a professional resume writer give mine a complete makeover.  It turns out a grand total of five people asked me for a copy during my entire job search.  (I don’t endorse being fired or downsized, but the experience did force me to thoroughly upgrade and update my resume, something that had been long overdue.)

Being a consultant.  I told a friend of mine, a longtime consultant, about the fact that I would be dabbling in radio consulting over the summer, and he responded with a question:  “Do you know who’s the best client?”  I said, “No, who?”  His answer:  “One who pays his bills on time.”  I learned that was very true.

(Tomorrow:  Part II – Pleasures of the Past Year)

In the senior community where my mom lives they have a saying:  Don’t give ‘til it hurts, give ‘til it feels good.  Thanks to today’s technology, it’s never been easier to get that good feeling.  And talk about an important time to give.

I remember seeing my mom burn the midnight oil, writing out five and ten dollar checks and putting them into envelopes headed for the Red Cross and CARE when I was growing up.  The next day, she’d walk over to the mailbox and drop them in.  As for me, I’d wait until Halloween for trick-or-treaters to come up to our door collecting change for UNICEF in their little cardboard donation boxes.

These days the act of making a donation has been simplified to the point where there really is no excuse for passing up the opportunity to give.  I was reminded of this as I read stories in the news this morning that over $5 million had already been raised for Haitian disaster relief through donations from text messaging.  By simply texting the word “Haiti” to the number 90999, callers could make an immediate donation of $10 to the Red Cross and their relief effort.  Contributions were streaming in at the rate of about $200,000 per hour, representing the largest outpouring of support in history using mobile devices.  To me, this is an astounding development.  Even something as simple as a personal check dropped in the mail can’t even compare.

If you would like to contribute to disaster relief in Haiti without texting, please check out any of these links to tried-and-true organizations which are on the scene right now:

The American Red Cross

CARE

Doctors Without Borders

UNICEF

Also, for Americans seeking information about family members in Haiti, the US State Department Operations Center has set up this phone number:  1-888-407-4747.

He’s been poked and prodded, he’s had his jaw forcibly held open, and he’s been pricked by a sharp needle.  Yet, to our dog, Mike, it’s all in a day’s visit to one of his happy places, the vet.

Recently, Mike was required to visit a clinic he’d never been to before.  It was filled with people he’d never met.  But, as he always does, he took to the trip as a new adventure.  He strolled confidently into the waiting room and, just as he does at his regular vet’s office, promptly walked behind the counter and introduced himself to the receptionist. As soon as she gave him a “Hi, Mike,” he responded with a friendly wiggle and then turned to other technicians and assistants in the room, hoping to get the same acknowledgment from each of them. When the vet appeared and asked to take him to the examining room by himself, Mike couldn’t wait to see what was behind that door, leading the doctor into the room without even a hint of apprehension—and without a glance back to see if my wife and I were coming along.

That’s how it’s always been with Mike.  My wife picked him out of a litter of four other siblings because he was the one puppy which came right up to us as if to say hello, curious and self-confident but not overly exuberant.  In the ten years that have followed, we’ve noticed that’s how Mike likes to approach life in general.  To him, every living thing starts out with a clean slate, and the occasional uncomfortable situation he finds himself in can be overcome with some patient tolerance.  I like to think there’s a lesson in here for all of us.

“Smokin’ US-30 Dragstrip . . . where the great ones ride!”  Words on a screen can’t do justice to the tag line of that (in)famous commercial.  If you listened to WLS or Super CFL as I did in the ‘60s and ‘70s, you’ll never forget the turbo-charged voice of Jan Gabriel who, with the help of some technical wizardry, made that commercial blast its way out of your little transistor radio.

Jan Gabriel died Sunday at the age of 69.  There’s a wonderful obituary on him at ChicagolandRadioandMedia.com.  For five decades he worked as a disc jockey, TV personality and executive of an ad agency.  But he’s best known for his US-30 Dragstrip commercials, the concept of which he conceived himself.

Interestingly, those commercials were held up by station management everywhere I’ve worked as examples of what NOT to do in a commercial.  In fact, every boss I’ve ever had reviled them.  And, whenever a client submitted a commercial produced in that style for us to run, I was ordered to do two things:  a) request that the client give us a different commercial to run; and, if they didn’t, then b) bury it in the middle of a commercial break so it wouldn’t butt up against the jocks’ voices and result in a jarring transition.

Sometimes it seems just the right kind of irritating can work, ironically.  The US 30 Dragstrip campaign so universally despised by management had incredible staying power.  If you heard it once, you remembered it for life, as I’m sure many of you do.  It’s like little Timmy’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice, calling out “Extra, extra, read all about it” for Long Chevrolet.  That’s another commercial high on the annoyance scale that will live on forever.