​I’m in the complaint business.

It didn’t start out that way, but it’s the end result of the journey I’ve been on as a journalist. As a reporter, you hear complaints, but they are typically about others. In production, I could hide in my office and no one knew who I was. But as Editor-in-Chief, well, everybody knows your extension.

To paraphrase Airplane!’s Rex Kramer, it's his ship now, his command. He's in charge, the boss, the head man, top dog, big cheese, a head honcho, number...

Folks complain about everything. It’s too hard to read. There’s not enough. We didn’t cover this. We didn’t do that. We spelled this wrong. I don’t understand your website. And a million other things. You have to have a thick skin, and be a good representative for the organization.

It’s the territory, and I accept that. But it is an interesting window for observing people.

I’m not immune to complaining. I’m not going to lie, because the people in my house would call me on that. If I see something I don’t think is right, I’m going to say something about it. I’ll vent. I sometimes even howl at the moon. I’m pretty sure we all do that.

But if I’m going to bring it up to somebody, other than in myself and those in and my immediate vicinity, it’s because I have a goal in mind. I can make things better. Someone can help things toward a more satisfactory solution.

Otherwise, vent and move on. What’s the point? As the great Mickey Rivers said, “Ain't no sense worryin' about the things you got control over, 'cause if you got control over 'em, ain't no sense worryin'. And ain't no sense worryin' about the things you don't got control over, 'cause if you don't got control over 'em, ain't no sense worryin'.”

All you’re gonna do is give yourself an aneurism. Or a coronary. It’s just pissing in the wind. You can bounce off the walls all you want, nothing is going to be different when you are done.

But I’m starting to think that puts me in the minority. Seems to me a lot of people complain just for the sake of complaining. Because, more often than not, when you offer the olive branch, and attempt to rectify the situation for the aggrieved, they give you the brush off. The high hat.

Everyone is entitled to behave the way they want, I suppose, but I guess I just don’t see the payoff.

As I say, I’m not immune to anger. But in the end, Mickey is right. If you can change it, do so, if you can’t, drop it. In every situation there are a whole bunch of things going on you probably don’t understand. Live and let live. A majority of the time you’ll never see that person you feel wronged you again.

So I vent it. Open the safety valve, and let it go. Process and be done.

I try to look at all situations in terms of return on investment. The only one I’m hurting by carrying that grudge is myself. Seems to me I’ll live a lot healthier life if I just let it lie.

I’m a Philly sports fan. With the exception of DC United and a brief dalliance with the Cubs in the early 80s when the Phillies traded my hero, Larry Bowa, I’m a Philly fan through and through.

Chad Ogea. The Process. Marion Campbell. Rich Kotite. Nick Leyva. I remember some awful Flyers teams. Sil Campusano. Charlie Hayes. Rick Schu. LaSalle Thompson. I’ve seen a lot of crap in my time.

And I’m still a Philly fan. And I realize saying that sparks one of two responses: Pity or revulsion.

I get it. We’re loud. We’ve got chips on our shoulders from all the losing. We can’t shut up when we win. Yes, we’ve earned some of it. But some of it... well, you try hearing that damn Santa Claus story again. It was 50 years ago.

But I can feel your pain. You see, I have avoided WIP, Philly’s famous sports station, like the plague much of my life. And thankfully, I left town before The Fanatic made it big. Because if you want to hear nonsense that makes you want to repeatedly hit yourself over the head with a hammer, listen to the talk personalities on sports radio, and the sycophants who call in. They may not have much in common, but I’m pretty sure they don’t watch the game.

These are the people who called for Charlie Manuel and Doug Pedersen’s heads before they won championships. Nick Foles should have been cut. Rhys Hoskins is becoming Dom Brown. Embiid, Simmons and now Fultz are busts. Trade ‘em all. Fire ‘em all.

Put you out of my misery.

I moved to Washington, DC in 2003, and while I miss my trips to the stadium complex, one thing I did not miss was that drivel. DC sports radio is invisible. Controversy in DC sports is nonexistent (I’m sure the local would disagree, but boy, is it tame down here).

Over time technology has allowed me to watch the Phils, Birds, Sixers and Fly-guys with the hometown broadcasts like I was listening or watching to the local stations. I could read the local sports news, too. Ah, but the Internet is a double-edged sword.

Commentors.

All of the worst aspects of talk radio, with the added anonymity of the Internet. What could possibly be better?

Take all the comments from your lovable Trumpers on the right, and all your lovable anti-Trumpers on the left, shake ‘em up and you will have more lucid, coherent arguments than you will ever find commenting on a story on the NBC Sports Philly website.

Just shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Just stop it! No wonder the world hates us. I hate us, too. You have no credibility. Proof? We tried it your way once. You pressured the Eagles to run Big Red out of town to hire Chip Kelly. That was you! How’d that work out? Enough!

Seriously, I know it's not easy being a Philadelphia sports fan. We had to wait a lifetime to celebrate a Super Bowl. But the Phillies are finally climbing out of the cellar. The Process is starting to pay off. And the Flyers... well, they're the Flyers. We have tradition, history, rituals, and legendary voices. Enjoy it. Because it won't be long before all you will be able to do is talk about how great the old guys were.

I’ve been in journalism for 27 years this month, and for much of that time I have been a columnist. I was always drawn to column writing, first by Mike Royko, later by Jimmy Breslin. Of all the things I have done as a journalist, right up to today, running my own newsroom, if I could get paid to do anything, it would be writing a column.

My first column was a sports column, later I was drawn to politics. I wrote about things I felt needed to be said. I went the route of trying to get syndicated, to no avail (it ain’t easy). I submitted my work for recognition, they thanked me for my contribution. I’m a writer, I have an ego, and I wanted it stroked. It can be frustrating. I’m not asking for sympathy here, I know what I am, I’m just stating the point.

You see, I’m in love with the sound of my own words. Right down to the commas and run-ons my publisher loves to get on me about. If I can’t win the major award (or the leg lamp), I at least want a reaction. If I get a reader clapping or angry, at least y’all are reading.

Crickets.

These are polarizing times. People are at each other’s throats. And I can’t stir it all up. Oh, yeah, I got a couple of emails from people who can’t tell what side of the aisle I’m on (hint: neither), but for all intents and purpose, a big fat nada.

​So that, along with a new format and an ever shrinking news hole, got me thinking. What am I doing?

And I had an epiphany.

I thought back. All the way back to my beginnings as a sportswriter at The Daily Record in Coatesville. I thought about my writing. And what stuck with me were a few great words, and turn of a phrase here and there. And that I was a pious, self righteous jerk.

Seriously, my basic rule in life is I want to be left alone, and here I am preaching that if only the world were as great as I am, it would be such a better place.

Who wants to read that? I sure don’t.

How did my heroes write? With humor. Tongue in cheek. Sure, they used their platform to shed light on subjects that needed attention, but first and foremost, they were entertaining.

That’s what I need to get back to. That doesn’t mean I’m going to pull any punches, but it does mean I’m getting out of the evangelism business. You live life your way, I’ll live mine, and maybe, along the way, you’ll get a good laugh at my foolishness.

I mentioned the shrinking news hole in newspapers, I often joke I’ve been filling available space for years. Well, there’s less of it now. But the National Society of Newspaper Columnists has been embracing bloggers the last few years, so why whouldn’t I embrace the blog, too. Seems as good a place as any to p*ss into the wind. Plus, I’m not beholden to a word count.

I make no promises as to frequency. I’d like to do it every day, but work and life like to mess with plans, so I’m going to aim for often. Maybe someone will follow along. If not, that’s OK, too.

After all, it’s all about me.