Tyler Rowland not just right choice but the only choice as Ashland Tomcats’ new radio ‘Voice’

Tyler Rowland did such a superb job calling Ashland Tomcat sports on the radio late last fall and throughout the spring that Thursday’s announcement naming him the new “Voice of the Tomcats” came as no surprise.

Kindred Communications, which has carried Tomcat sports broadcasts for several years, announced in a press release that it would continue its partnership with Ashland athletics. Later in the release came the news that Rowland had been named the new “Voice of the Tomcats,” succeeding the late, great Dicky Martin.

From a news perspective, Kindred Communications may have buried the lead.

Rowland is a bona fide broadcasting talent on the rise. Last basketball season, he inherited one of the toughest assignments in the 16th Region when he stepped behind the microphone following the tragic passing of Martin, a broadcasting icon whose voice became synonymous with Ashland athletics.

Who could replace Dicky Martin? The truth is, nobody.

Tyler Rowland is now the “official” new Voice of the Ashland Tomcats.

But if there was one obvious choice, it was Rowland.

He brings the same meticulous preparation and genuine passion that made Martin respected throughout Kentucky. While no one could duplicate Martin’s unique style, Rowland has developed a voice and approach of his own that Tomcat fans quickly embraced.

When the opportunity came, Rowland didn’t just seize it—he sprinted with it.

A 2006 Ashland graduate, Rowland played football under Leon Hart. He considered Martin both a mentor and a friend. He credits Martin for teaching him the craft of broadcasting and eagerly absorbed every lesson.

Rowland began working alongside Martin in 2020, assisting with the radio broadcast of Ashland’s 35-14 victory over Elizabethtown in the Class 3A state championship game in Lexington.

“Dicky is a dear, treasured friend,” Rowland said. “Dicky guided me in so many ways and I think is right up there with Cawood Ledford and Marty Brennaman.”

Determined to sharpen his skills, Rowland sought broadcasting opportunities wherever he could find them, including calling football and basketball games for West Virginia State during the 2024-25 season. He’s also done summer league basketball games for the past few years, always looking to refine those God-given broadcasting skills.

His love for sports—and for the Tomcats—dates back to his elementary school days at Oakview. He recalls his sixth-grade year as a turning point when he played organized basketball for Steve Reliford.

“My passion for sports stems because of that year and how much I developed socially and what I learned from it,” he said. “Steve believed in me at a time I didn’t come close to believing in myself.”

Later, as a freshman, classmate Joe Smith encouraged him to try football.

“So I did,” he said. “Played for Leon Hart for his first three seasons and enjoyed that.”

As a sixth-grader, Rowland could never have imagined that one day he would occupy the play-by-play seat for Ashland Tomcat football and basketball. He probably didn’t even realize the Tomcats were on the radio.

Today, he has become the permanent voice of one of Kentucky’s proudest athletic traditions.

And the best part? He’s only going to get better.

Rowland is a consummate professional. Give him a listen. In an era when many Ashland games are available on television through My Town TV—a service many fans appreciate—it’s easy to overlook the experience of listening on the radio. But if you tune in, you’ll quickly discover that Rowland has a gift for painting vivid word pictures of the action, occasionally mixed with the kind of colorful editorial observations that made Dicky Martin so memorable.

As Ashland athletic director Jim Conway so accurately said in the release, “the future sounds great.”

Kindred’s announcement confirmed that Tomcat games will once again air on 97.9 FM this season. But the biggest news wasn’t the frequency.

It was that Tyler Rowland is now the permanent Voice of the Tomcats.

He wasn’t handed the job.

He earned it.

FLASHBACK: Love and devotion

This was written back in 2014 following the death of Herb Conley’s wife, Janice. It is a tribute to her but also to every coach’s wife. They go through more than you think. Herb called Janice his “inspiration” and the thought of them reuniting made the sting of his death easier to bear.

Here is the column:

Nobody ever pushed around Herb Conley. Nobody ever dared.

He was tough as nails. As a kid growing up. As a blossoming athlete. As a coach. As a father. Always, tough as nails.

He was a Beast, and this Beast had a Beauty.

Her name was Janice.

Janice was the love of his life, the one person who could tame this Tough Guy who would become a football coaching legend in his hometown.

She could melt him with the batting of her eyes.

She had him at hello and, boy, was he ever glad she did.

Whenever things were tough, and they weren’t always easy for Herb Conley, he had Janice.

Always there to lift him up.

Always there to tell him how proud she was of him.

Always there to keep him in line.

Whenever Herb Conley needed a boost, she was there for him. She could pick up his spirit like he picked up weights. Effortlessly.

They lived a storybook life, these high school sweethearts did. That’s because anything they did together, they did well. They were soulmates who raised three boys in their hometown. Grew old together, yet still loved each other like school kids.

She had one of the toughest jobs on earth, that of being the wife of a high school football coach, in a town that expected a lot from its team. Every week. Every game. Every minute.

We’re with you win or tie, they would say.

Conley was no newcomer when he became Ashland’s head coach in 1968. He was a former star player for the Tomcats, a member of their last undefeated team in 1958, and had been an assistant the prior two years under Jake Hallum. The ’67 Tomcats won a state championship and Herbie was a big reason why.

But when you step into that head coaching position, the pressure intensifies. Ask anyone who has coached here where your fate is determined every Friday night.

When the Tomcats weren’t winning like the fans thought they should be winning, the fingers started pointing and they were pointing in Herb’s direction in 1970.

Legend or not, they were ready to run him out of town.

Ashland had lost to Russell for the first time in school history and angry fans trashed Conley’s yard and home with garbage.

“Herb wasn’t always the legend he is now,” said longtime friend Bill Tom Ross. “Early in a coach’s career, you have difficulties. I had the same thing at Boyd County (his first head coaching assignment).

“Imagine being Herb Conley’s wife? The toughness, the mental toughness, raising three sons. That house was overflowing with testosterone.”

But Ross remembers Janice as being upbeat in the face of adversity. She was that to the end.

“I remember back in those days she was never down, never depressed,” said Ross, who credits his wife Brenda with his coaching success.

The life of the high school coach’s wife is never easy. The divorce rate is high. The criticism you hear from fans can be cruel.

“Not only in the stands but, when you’re coaching at a high-profile place like Ashland, you can’t go to the grocery store or the bank without hearing something,” Ross said. “Somebody is always talking about the game.”

But the wife must bite her tongue, smile and take it. They must be there for their husband and their family. They better be strong.

“I’m not sure in that household that Janice wasn’t the toughest one of the bunch,” Ross said.

Back in 1970, when things were tough, a letter came to the Conley’s house. Inside it had a cartoon drawn of a man with a noose around his neck with another man leading him out of town.

Janice never showed it to Herb, but he found it rummaging through a drawer a couple of years later.

“What’s this?” he asked her.

 “Oh, where do you find that?” she said. “I thought I threw that away. It was nothing.”

She told Herb it had come a few years ago, but she didn’t want to bother him with it. Truth is, Janice was protecting her man from one more dart being thrown in his direction.

The rest of the story went well for Herb Conley after he survived that 1970 season. The Tomcats took off on a six-year run that produced 56 victories, a state runner-up finish in 1972 and the 1975 state at-large championship.

Guess who was there cheering him all the way?

She loved her Tomcats. Always. Even in her last days of a losing battle with cancer, when she was mostly unresponsive, when Herb was wearing a Tomcat shirt she would look down at it and then up to his face. Down again and up to his face.

It’s been a difficult 19 months for the Conleys, who were set to enjoy a long retirement together with long walks on the beach. They loved their stretch of paradise on Myrtle Beach.

They enjoyed life together, right to the end. It was a never-ending love story like you wouldn’t believe.

Coaches’ wives are given something special inside. They are patient and thick-skinned. They know the importance of supporting their man through the good times and bad.

Janice Conley was like that for Herb.

“They were the ultimate team,” said Ross. “He didn’t lose her. He knows exactly where she is. He’s got that peace that passes all understanding.”

And he’ll never stop loving her.