The Return To KNBR I Never Saw Coming

One thing I’ve tried to avoid since I started writing for Barrett Media is making these columns about me. There are enough people in this business who think they’re the story. The story should be about the industry. The people in it. Moreover, the trends shaping where sports media is going. This week, though, I’m making a rare exception because, for better or worse, I became part of the story. There are certain moments in this business you never forget. The one where you get hired. The one where you get fired. And if you stay in sports media long enough, there’s the one where the same station that let you go calls and asks if you’d like to come back. If it were only that simple.

After about eighteen months away, I’m returning to KNBR radio in San Francisco. If you had asked me in November 2024, when I was told my position was being eliminated, whether I’d ever work there again, I would have laughed. Not because I didn’t like being at KNBR. Quite the opposite. I honestly believed that chapter of my career had ended.

That’s one thing this business teaches you quickly. We spend our careers talking about coaches getting fired, players getting traded, and executives getting shown the door. We tell listeners it’s “just business” so often that the phrase almost loses its meaning. Then one day, you’re the one cleaning out your office, explaining to your family what comes next, and suddenly those words don’t sound nearly as simple.

I moved on. I didn’t spend the last year and a half sitting by the phone hoping it would ring. Instead, I started writing this column, started doing a national and local radio show, and earned my real estate license. Also, I launched a YouTube channel, got involved in podcast networks, and found other ways to stay connected to the business I’ve loved for more than thirty years.

Did I miss doing daily radio? Every single day. But I wasn’t waiting for someone to save me. I accepted that chapter had possibly closed and figured life was taking me in a different direction.

Then the phone rang. They wanted me to come back and take over my old time slot.

Since the news became public, the question I’ve heard more than any other is, “Why would you go back?”

I understand why people ask. The answer is simple. I love radio, sports, and preparing for a show. I love walking into a studio with four hours to fill and no idea where the conversation might take us. The connection with listeners, the breaking news, the debates, the laughs, and even the days when nothing goes according to plan. I love it all.

If you’ve spent more than thirty years doing something you genuinely love, getting another opportunity to do it isn’t something you take lightly.

I can’t wait to reconnect with Bay Area sports fans and do what I’ve loved for more than three decades. Radio has never simply been a job to me. It’s been my life’s work. After everything that’s happened over the last year and a half, I’m genuinely excited to be back in the game.

If that were the whole story, I wouldn’t be writing this column.

The reason this return has been so emotional has very little to do with radio and everything to do with the voice of the 49ers and my longtime radio partner, Greg Papa. Greg isn’t just the Bay Area’s most iconic sports voice. He’s one of my closest friends.

Right now, he’s fighting the biggest battle of his life. Like so many people who know and love him, I’ve spent the last several months hoping and praying for better news. There are some things infinitely bigger than ratings, time slots, and radio stations.

That’s why this opportunity feels different. Under normal circumstances, I’d simply be writing about how excited I am to return to KNBR. These aren’t normal circumstances. I’m taking over Greg’s time slot. If I could trade this opportunity tomorrow for my friend to be healthy, thriving, back behind a microphone doing what he loves, calling touchdowns and analyzing double-deep zones, I’d make that trade in a heartbeat.

That’s why this return has brought emotions I honestly didn’t know could exist at the same time. I’m genuinely excited, and I’m genuinely sad. Life doesn’t always hand you clean decisions. Sometimes the happiest professional moments of your life arrive wrapped in circumstances you wish were completely different.

I’ve seen some of the reactions online. One person told me I should be ashamed. Another questioned whether I had any self-respect. I don’t get angry reading those comments because I understand them. From the outside, people see a headline and think they know the story. The truth is, they know some of it. They’re not supposed to know all of it.

One of the reasons people become frustrated with the media is because we spend so much time explaining everyone else’s decisions. They assume ours should come with the same level of access. They don’t.

Career decisions involve family, friendships, timing and conversations that aren’t meant for public consumption. There are parts of this story that belong to me, and there are parts that belong to other people. Out of respect for those people, they’ll stay there. I’ve reached a place in my life where I don’t feel the need to convince everyone that I’ve made the right decision.

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever received was incredibly simple: You do you. People are entitled to their opinions. I’m the one who must live with mine.

What I can tell you is this all happened fast. There weren’t months of soul-searching or some elaborate comeback plan. One phone call changed everything, and suddenly I found myself trying to process excitement, gratitude, sadness, and hope all at once. I honestly thought I’d experienced everything this profession had to offer. I’ve been hired. Fired. Changed cities. Changed stations. Worked local radio. Worked national radio. Been the boss. Written stories. Done television, podcasts, and digital media.

I figured I’d checked every box this crazy business had.

Sports is full of comeback stories. We celebrate them every day. What we don’t always acknowledge is that comebacks are rarely clean. They come with history, baggage, and relationships. They come with emotions that don’t fit neatly into a headline or a social media post.

That’s where I find myself today. I’m excited to be back in the game, grateful for another opportunity. I’m confident I can earn the trust of Bay Area listeners all over again. More than anything, I’m hopeful my friend Greg Papa wins the only battle that really matters.

After more than thirty years in this crazy business, I honestly thought I’d seen everything.

Turns out, I hadn’t.

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John Lund

With decades of experience behind the mic, John Lund is more than a sports commentator and weekly columnist for Barrett Media—he’s a storyteller, humorist, and true fan. He’s hosted shows in mid sized markets like Pittsburgh and Salt Lake City to larger cities like San Francisco, Detroit and Dallas. John has even hosted nationally on ESPN Radio. Known for his sharp wit and deep sports knowledge, John welcomes your feedback. Reach him on X @JohnLundRadio or by email at John@JohnLundRadio.com.

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