End of the run far from end of the line After eight years at MVP, it was time -- but the relationships will live on, and I won't be off the stage for long. January 22, 2009 BY DAN MCNEIL Time is a medium of exchange. We can waste time or spend it wisely. Usually, when we reflect on time spent earlier in our lives, we recall mostly the good times. I made the most of the almost eight years I worked at WMVP-AM (1000). It's not overstating it to suggest I got everything I wanted out of it -- revenge, ratings, money and relationships. And now it's over. Station general manager Jim Pastor fired me Friday. There has been much speculation about why I got whacked. I wish I could enlighten you, but the truth is, I didn't ask why. It doesn't matter. It was time. Time for both parties to change the backdrop. I relished my time with on-air partner John Jurkovic, who had been a regular on my shows on WSCR-AM (670) when he was hunkering down in NFL trenches in the 1990s. ESPN 1000 was willing to roll the dice on the self-anointed ''Good Kid'' when I requested his services when the project began in May 2001. Jurko and I became fast friends and developed trust, something neither of us passes around liberally. I think there's a chance we will share a studio again. I'll keep Lysol nearby just in case. The MJH show: It worked Contrary to perception, the dynamic I had with third wheel Harry Teinowitz was mostly good. Because I landed in the penalty box thrice after Tiny spats, it's silly to deny rifts existed, but the Tiny One brought a lot to the party. When he stopped resisting his role as a part-time punching bag, the show ascended to higher levels. The MJH show broke the local mold. Three opinionated guys, all with divergent interests and from diametrically opposed backgrounds. I was the edgy radio lifer, Jurko the jolly jock and Harry the worldly, failed actor/comedian. That's what made it work. Listeners may not have liked all three, but there was at least one personality that people found polarizing. After a couple years of finding our way, people would say, ''You guys are like my buddies and me sitting at the bar, busting each others' stones.'' So I began referring to the show as ''The Afternoon Saloon,'' a handle ESPN 1000 will continue to use until an original thought is unearthed. My run on the Afternoon Saloon forever will be a highlight in my radio life. It justified my resignation from the Score in October 2000 and shifted the balance of power between the two sports stations. ESPN 1000 had been a rumor in this town before our arrival. My showmates and I -- including producers Adam Delevitt, Jeff Dickerson, Ben Finfer, Scot Bertram and Danny Zederman -- altered the landscape. I feel satisfied. This doesn't reflect well on my Christian upbringing, but I find revenge is one of the sweetest tastes imaginable. I got my pound of flesh. Radio lives, however, are measured by increments of time. About a year ago, I started feeling that our shelf life was nearing its expiration. Becoming too comfortable is a terminal disease in entertainment. I'm not sure if Jurko or Harry would agree, but I think Pastor pulled the plug at the right time. And I don't begrudge him for not affording us a ''goodbye show.'' I've heard those before. They're ugly. Neither management nor talent wins. Given stricter guidelines at a brand-sensitive outfit such as ESPN, all of us felt oppressively shackled. The fabric of what made us popular -- the bathroom humor, sexual innuendo and colorful language -- was never acceptable. That's fine. Their bat and ball, so they get to make the rules. But it's no fun feeling like much of what you say may come back to bite you. I wanted to be far away from that. I am now. Nothing is permanent The most satisfying commodity with which I depart is the relationships. You're lucky in life if you work somewhere just once and discover a culture in which everybody pulls on the same end of the rope. You even see each other outside of work. I've been fortunate to experience this twice: the first few years at the Score, and the last 18 months or so at ESPN 1000. When word of my exit spread, I heard from every producer, reporter and host. The consensus was disappointment and thanks for whatever leadership I exhibited. I will miss those guys, the ones who rolled up their sleeves and churned out a respectable product. I also know nothing is permanent and some circles will intersect again. They invariably do in radio. The free time I have now will be spent being a better father, husband, friend and writer as I eagerly await the next stop on the tour. This is not a predictable life. I signed up for that. It's exhilarating when one has a chance to re-invent himself. Time to be the frontman for a new band. Produce some new songs. And before most have struck a Titleist in anger for the first time this year, I'll be back on stage. It will be my time all over again. Borrowing from immortal disc jockey Alan Freed, to whom all of us who open a microphone owe a great deal of gratitude, ''It's not goodbye. It's just good night.'' (Dan McNeil is a former host of the ''Mac, Jurko & Harry'' show on WMVP-AM 1000).
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