Joe Nuxhall, audio cassettes, and memories

A tribute to physical media

When the Cincinnati Reds won the National League Championship Series in six games over Pittsburgh in 1990, I was bouncing off the walls with excitement. So I did what any self-respecting, well-adjusted teenage baseball nut would have done in the early 90s — I ran to the radio, tossed in a blank cassette tape, and smashed the record button.

Perhaps I should explain, for those of you who weren’t around back in what we’re increasingly calling “the good old days.” You may not believe this, but there was a time when teens would listen to the radio and record our favorite songs onto audio cassettes. Occasionally, we would even call into the local radio station and request a particular tune, then wait eagerly to hit record. I remember vividly the time that I called to request “Blue Moon On Monday,” and how jazzed I was to get it on tape.*

*Hey, what can I say? I couldn’t afford to just buy every single Duran Duran record, you know. I was a kid!

Anyway, back to the NLCS. As soon as Randy Myers struck out Pirates catcher Don Slaught to secure Cincinnati’s berth in the World Series, I sprinted upstairs to my bedroom and flipped the power on my cheap Emerson stereo system.* The radio dial was already tuned to 700 WLW, as it had been all summer and fall. I grabbed a cassette, dumped it into the tape deck, and pressed the play and record buttons simultaneously. You had to do that for some reason, kids.

*Find a teenager and explain what a stereo system was.

I then bounded downstairs to watch the end of the CBS broadcast, but in the coming days, I listened to the audio of the WLW post-game show over and over and over. As long as I live, I will never forget how happy Reds broadcasting legend Joe Nuxhall sounded as he stumbled through the Reds clubhouse, searching for someone to interview. At one point, he spied lefty Tom Browning. “TB!” he shouted, Nuxy’s excitement perhaps fueled by a few Hudepohls. “My man TB!”

I treasured that cheap plastic cassette tape. I was just a kid living in a small town four hours from Cincinnati, but I felt like I owned a piece of history. I felt more connected to that team somehow. Yeah, I know. Sounds silly, doesn’t it?

But this brings me to one of my favorite topics, and points to something I think we’re losing in this streaming world. Heaven knows I appreciate the convenience of being able to stream “Life Below Zero” or “Family Guy” any time I please, but there’s something to be said about physical media. That cassette was tangible, something I could hold in my hands and carry with me. It’s why vinyl records have made a comeback, and why blu-rays and 4k Ultra HD discs continue to sell to a small but loyal audience.

I can’t stream that NLCS post-game radio show anywhere, and it’s certainly not on YouTube. To be fair, I can’t listen to it on my tape either, because I don’t actually own a cassette player. But it still exists, and it remains an indelible piece of the collage of memories I have of the last championship season the Reds are ever going to experience.*

*Or so it seems.

While we’re on the topic, there’s another obscure memento of my childhood fandom that has survived to the present day. This was an amazing find, and also a little embarrassing. But why does this newsletter exist if not to give you a glimpse into my psyche?

If you were a kid during Chris Sabo’s rookie season in 1988, you remember how exciting it all was. The rec-specs, the Ford Escort, the cool nickname — Spuds Mackenzie.* Even more, the crazy hustle every single play of every single game. Sabo snatched the starting third base job from current manager David Bell’s dad in spring training and never let go. He defeated Chicago’s Mark Grace for the NL Rookie of the Year award and kids all over Reds Country (tm) were mesmerized. If they had sold shirseys at Riverfront Stadium, Sabo’s number 17 would have been a best-seller among the youthful set.

*You had to be there.

I would have had one, I’m certain. As Sabo’s sophomore season arrived in 1989, I decided I was going to record his at-bats from the Reds radio broadcasts. Someone needed to document the historic season to come, right? When Sabo was ultimately inducted into the Hall of Fame, these audio cassettes would be priceless! I was a young Reds historian.

Last summer, before selling our home of sixteen years, I was forced to dig through boxes in my garage that I hadn’t opened in years. And I found a couple of those old cassette tapes. Behold the glory:

I can’t believe I did this and I can’t believe I’m telling you about it, but here’s the proof. Why didn’t someone tell me to go outside and touch some grass? What a nerd!

As noted, I don’t have a cassette player any longer so I haven’t listened to these gems, but they triggered another core memory. They reminded me of a time and a place that has long since faded. I can’t imagine anyone would ever want to listen to radio calls of random Chris Sabo at-bats from 1989, but they’re available! I’m literally going to pick one up after I write this sentence.

I know I’m dating myself with this loving tribute to physical media, but that’s what I do here. And it wasn’t just cassettes; there were two VHS tapes that we wore out after playing them so many times in our family VCR. One was the 1990 World Series video that you can now watch on YouTube.* The other was “Ghostbusters.”

*Where’s Quinones?

I also recorded all ten games of the 1990 NLCS and World Series on VHS. I found those tapes in the garage last summer too, at the bottom of a box that also contained game tapes of my senior season of high school basketball. Fortunately for you, I burned those hoops tapes in a blazing fire. No one needs to see that hopelessly embarrassing footage.

These days, I’ve largely become a minimalist, or at least I’m trending in that direction (though my obsession with blu-rays is making it difficult). I happily tossed out or donated or sold most everything uncovered in the process of moving. But some things I couldn’t part with, not yet. Like the audio of a slightly tipsy Joe Nuxhall enjoying a moment with Tom Browning.

Perhaps I should digitize some of this. In the meantime, I think I’m going to try to find a cassette player.

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And one more thing…

I have every game of the 1975 World Series on DVD, from a set released back in 2006. Why doesn’t MLB market physical copies (or digital versions, for that matter) of every World Series for which there is television footage? I know I’d buy them, and I’m sure I’m not alone. Seems like a missed opportunity for MLB, and they don’t miss very many chances to extract cash from your wallet.

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What’s Chad Watching?

I’ve only seen one new film recently (The Iron Claw; highly recommended), plus a bunch of Christmas movies. But since I’m singing the praises of physical media this week, check out the haul I received as gifts from my incredible family this week:

Three new Criterion discs, and five other great ones. I’m a lucky guy, to be sure.