I Was On TV Last Night...

I remember the day I got hired here. It was the most humbling, rewarding day of my life. In the craziness and all the emotion, I made sure to sit myself down and remind myself that all of this could go away in an instant. There's no guarantee how long this is going last. You can have dreams of working here forever, but many of those things are out of my control. I remind myself of this every day. It's important because it allows me not to overlook these precious, hard-earned moments. It never stops being cool. And I've been working here long enough that people know what I'm about. I'm a nostalgic guy. I'm sentimental as hell. I can cry at the drop of a hat. You'd feel the same if you were in my position.

The truth is, my story didn't start at the gas station. It was started in a college dorm room at Central Michigan. You could argue that it started in a broadcasting class at Lansing Catholic high school or even before that. It was me, my camera, and my strange nervous energy. There were aspirations. I wanted to be on podcasts. I wanted to be on TV, and eventually, I wanted to be on Barstool. Those were the dreams, and those dreams felt pretty far away when I dropped out of college, delivered pizzas, weighted tables, got fat, and worked at a gas station. It was all chasing a dream. Some days, I still feel like that 12-year-old who picked up a camera and started reviewing movies. The person grew, and so did the passion.

I read way too much into what people say. I'm paranoid as hell, I'm impulsive as fuck, and I seem to enjoy making things as difficult as possible for myself. These last seven months have been a whirlwind. And despite how much I've grinded, I still get the comments saying I don't fit in here. I still get the comments that say I'm not "Barstool material." I scoff at that notion. We're a company of grinders, a glorious band of misfits that found themselves together at the same place. I've worked minimum-wage jobs and took morning shifts, so I didn't miss Tiger games. I've had a million fuckups and learned from every single one. You don't have to like me, but I'm more Barstool material than almost anyone because I know what it means to earn it. The best version of me is still to come, and you'll see him at Barstool.

And I know what the next step is. Here come the cavalcade of comments claiming that I'm sympathy-grifting. "Another sob story from Castellani. When will it end?" Don't worry, buddy boy, I have a few more left in me. It's called storytelling. I'm pretty damn good at it. These moments fill me with incredible pride, and I share that pride because my heart is worn very much on my sleeve. It's not just about a TV appearance. It's about what led to it. When I was stacking cups of tartar sauce on top of one another, stocking the fridge back in 2018, a moment like this seemed impossible. In difficult moments, it's easy to be cynical. It's easy for the cloud of pessimism to obscure your judgment. But my brain feels much clearer than it did a year ago at this point, and that's because I decided to get better, and even with the insanity that comes from these seven months, one thing remains certain; Barstool will always be home.

I must thank the awesome people at Bally, who were kind enough to let me on the player's only broadcast. One of the great joys of my life is seeing the connection we've made with these fans. It's no secret that I wish things would get better at Comerica Park. They will be one day, and I'll be here for in when they improve. Maybe I'll be there in person, maybe I'll be there in spirit. This journey will be worth it one day, and I'll be ready, rocking my Barstool merch. It might be silly, but I just don't know how to quit. I'm still here. I'm the guy with the nervous energy. I'm the guy who does the Tigers videos, and last night, I was the guy on TV.

Don't let me get hot.