Mike Gorman’s career nearly ended in a parking lot. It was in the mid-1970s and Gorman, fresh off a five-year stint in the U.S. Navy, was still trying to figure out a post-military future. He loved sports and had an itch for broadcasting, so one day he decided to take a chance and pop into the offices of WBZ, a Boston-area radio affiliate, and try to speak to Gil Santos, then a legendary local play-by-play man. If Santos wouldn’t meet with him, his next stop was Weymouth (Mass.) High School, where a friend said he could get him a part-time gig as a substitute teacher.
When Gorman arrived, he was stopped at the security gate. He was asked by the guard if he had an appointment. He didn’t. He was asked if he had a résumé or a tape to leave for Santos. He didn’t. Puzzled, the guard suggested Gorman get some experience and come back.
When the guard opened the gate for Gorman to turn his car around, he noticed a hat in the backseat. Stitched onto the front was VP-44, the naval squadron Gorman flew with. The guard, it turned out, used to fly with VP-8. After a few minutes chatting about planes, the guard called Santos. After hearing Gorman’s story, Santos agreed to meet with him. The two talked for 90 minutes. When they were finished, Santos called a small regional radio station and set Gorman up with a job as a public affairs director.
