Thanks, Vin
As a kid growing up in Southern California, I can fondly recollect watching Los Angeles Dodgers games on KTTV-11, an LA-based station and the official broadcaster of the team’s games. Back then, baseball games weren’t broadcast nationally, as they are today. Station programming scheduled regular season games throughout the year, and I watched and listened to just about all of them since we were lucky enough to get Channel 11 at my home. I can remember the anticipation of one or two games being broadcast from Holman Stadium at Dodgertown beginning in spring training, and waiting to hear Vin Scully call those games. It was like a bonus before the season even started. I can fondly remember Mr. Scully weaving spring training tales of bygone years as a warmup for the upcoming season.
Vin had several partners who would switch from the broadcast booth to the radio booth every three innings. Jerry Doggett and Ross Porter were pretty good themselves, but just couldn’t hold a candle to “The Master". I can remember listening to the poetic symmetry of the flow of his words as he would weave together the specific details of an event that happened in Brooklyn oh so many years ago….all within the framework of one at-bat by Pedro Guerrero, Steve Garvey, or Davey Lopes. Who else could do that?
Scully’s voice would be soothing relief at the end of a tough inning, and magical encouragement during a long Dodger rally as he could re-visit specifics about similar games played by Roy Campanella or maybe even Gil Hodges, oh so long ago.
He was a friend you could count on to be there game after game, season after season. Whether you listened to him through a transistor radio or through the TV set, he seemingly impacted the game, without actually “impacting” the game. My wife once was listening to a game in bed that I happened to be watching on tv, and she had her eyes closed as she tried to fall sleep. She said she could visualize every detail of the game he was talking about, without even having to see it for herself. Yes, Vin Scully was just that good.
Those of us who were fans of the Dodgers shared him with a national television audience for Saturday’s Game of the Week, mid-season All Star Games, and the Fall Classic; and each and every time, he would so eloquently and matter of factly leave us with some connection between a World Series game 30 years prior, and the game being played that day. He brought the ghosts of baseball’s past to life, and he loved to share it with all who would listen. We can all remember his dramatic descriptions of World Series and All Star Game home runs, or even his trademark pre-game delivery lines, all told with his coy little wink, with a sparkle in his eye, like he knew something we didn’t. Generations of Dodgers fans have counted on him to be the storyteller of their favorite seasons, from Jackie Robinson’s first year in the Major Leagues, to Sandy Koufax’s no-hitters and pitching brilliance, to the sensation of Fernandomania that took hold of the nation during that magic summer of 1981.
Not having Vin Scully around will take a while to get used to: I think we all need some time to grieve his passing and reflect on his greatness. In the meantime, the game he so loved will go on, the seasons will grow old, and the pennant races will still often come down to the wire. Fortunately, we will still have and hold dearly our time with him, and will often smile when we think of him. So Vin, like so many other Dodgers and baseball fans, I’d like to wish you “a very pleasant good afternoon, wherever you may be.” We all know you’re with the Big Dodger in the sky. Rest now. And thank you for so many beautiful memories.
Article submitted by Jason Beck, Instagram @bourbon&baseball