Driving home the other evening, I followed my usual discipline of turning on the radio to find out how the Tribe was fairing against their nemesis from the Motor City, the Detroit Tigers. It was the top of the ninth with Cleveland up 3-2. Out of the Bullpen came the Tribe's ace reliever Chris Perez; but over the airwaves the voice of Tom Hamilton. The first batter went down easily, the second batter struck out. You could hear the fans begin a rhythmic clap as Perez looked in for the sign from the catcher. “Here’s the wind-up and the pitch…. A ground ball to second…. Kipnis up with it… the throw to first…. Ball game!”
One of the great pleasures in life is listening to baseball on the radio. It is the perfect summer companion for the game of baseball has a rhythm that mirrors the summer months – laid back, a gradual pace, and then, with one the "crack" of the bat, everything is in motion. You can have your iPads and iPhones, your fancy gadgets and your trendy ‘nook’. I will settle for some easy listening and the smooth sounds of Cleveland’s own Tom Hamilton: “And we are underway here at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario on a beautiful night for baseball.”
My love for baseball on the radio began when I was a little boy. My family was fortunate to have a second home in the Pocono Mountains not far from Stroudsburg, PA. At night, I would lie in bed with my small red transistor radio and single white ear piece listening to games all across America. If the skies were clear and the airwaves just right, I could listen to the voices of Chuck Thompson and Bill O’Donnell calling the games from Baltimore; the legendary Jack Buck describing the action of the Saint Louis Cardinals; and if I was lucky, every once and awhile, I could pick up Harry Caray calling the play-by-play of the Chicago Cubs: "It might be... it could be.... it is! A Home Run!"
Naturally, growing up in New York City, I was partial to the Mets and the Yankees. In the early sixties and seventies, these two ball clubs had some of the great announcing “trios” or “quartets” of all time. In 1969, the year the “Amazing” Mets won the World Series, and games were only played during the day, my third grade teacher at Friends Seminary allowed the students to bring our radios to class so we could listen to the games. The ensemble of Ralph Kiner, Bob Murphy and the silver toned Lindsey Nelson brought the game to life. They announced the proceedings by painting pictures, a “theater of the mind”, and a listener would hang on their every word.
Lindsey Nelson had an opening phrase that he used with each broadcast: “Hello everybody, I’m Lindsey Nelson.” While I enjoyed him more on the radio than on television, Nelson was known for his multi-colored plaid sports jackets. He reportedly owned 335 of them at one time. During a broadcast, his jackets often clashed with the set and produced a scintillation effect in the broadcast image. Nelson figured if people could finally see rather than just hear broadcasts, he might as well give fans something interesting to talk about. And talk about it we did! Not only did we talk about it, Nelson influenced me to actually purchase some of those wild jackets when I was a kid (thank God those pictures have disappeared!).
Bob Murphy had a 41 year career with the Mets. Prior to 1982, the Mets announcers had done television and radio on a rotational system. When one was on TV, another would take over on radio, and the other would take a three inning break. As a general rule, the Mets did not have two men in the broadcasting booth, as is so common today. The line I remember most of Murphy’s was: ‘And there’s a well hit ball…”
A memorable story about “Murph”: because he was so well known for his sunny outlook, an unprecedented display of crankiness on his part received a lot of attention in 1990. On July 25, in Philadelphia, the Mets took a 10-3 lead into the ninth inning, but the rival Phillies opened the inning with seven consecutive singles, followed by a walk, and scored six runs to narrow the Mets lead to one run before the Mets were able to turn a double-play and get a line drive out. Murphy's patience was apparently worn thin by the long inning, and when the game finally ended, he famously exclaimed, "A line drive caught. The game is over. The Mets win it. A line drive to Mario Diaz. And the Mets win the ballgame! They win the damn thing by a score of 10 to 9!" The use of an expletive was so out of character that it was frequently cited as one of his more memorable moments. (Wikipedia)
While Ralph Kiner was my least favorite of the three, he did have a unforgettable phrase which he used every time a Met would hit a home run: “It is gone, good bye.” While researching information for this post, I discovered that Kiner is still broadcasting for the Mets. His tenure with the ball club of 52 years is the third-longest for an active broadcaster with a single team, trailing only those of Los Angeles Dodgers announcers Vin Scully (1950-present) and Jaime Jarrin (1959-present).
The Yankees, of course, had to have more than three announcers. They had a quartet that featured Phil Rizzuto and his famous exclamation, “Holy Cow!”; Bill White with his own, “And that ball is….. gone! A Home Run!”; Asheville native Frank Messer who had the eventful call on radio of the famous “Pine-Tar” incident with George Brett, “He's out! Look at this!...He is out, and having to be forcibly restrained from hitting plate umpire Tim McClelland. And the Yankees have won the ball game 4 to 3!”; and Whitey Ford whose only memory I have is a cherished baseball with his autograph on it that resides in my office.
July is quickly moving into August and soon the sights and sounds of football and other winter sports will be vying for our attention. Before then, take a moment, an evening, turn on the radio and listen to one of the unique sounds in our culture: the call of a baseball game. It will be time well spent.
Love One Another - Brian
