#MIDDLEBURY
By Mark Vasto
This has been a season of losses.
Muhammad Ali, Gordie Howe, Arnold Palmer … icons, idols and champions measured on a mythical scale that can never be tipped. But for every great player, there has been an equally masterful play-caller broadcasting their every move. They are the ones who paint the vivid, indelible pictures of their exploits in our minds and weave each significant moment into the fabric of time.
They are the men and women who make calling singular moments of a game their life’s calling. When Bobby Thompson hit one out of the Polo Grounds to send the New York Giants to the postseason, it wasn’t a mere home run, it was “the shot heard ’round the world” that saw, “”The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!” When George Foreman jacked up the champ, the moment was described as, “Down Goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”
Would anyone remember Bobby Thompson, a lifetime .270 hitter, if Russ Hodges hadn’t made that call? Would Foreman be the wrecking machine Ali used to shock the world with his “rope-a-dope” if Cosell didn’t set the scene? Would you remember who won the 1980 gold medal in hockey had Al Michaels not been there to ask if you believed in miracles?
In California, residents and sports fans have a peculiar sadness to deal with, for they have lost not one, but two broadcasting legends on the very same day – Vin Scully and Dick Enberg – yet both are still alive. Enberg not only did wonderful play-by-play for the Padres, he was the happy yet dignified play caller, the one who exclaimed “Oh my!” for every great shot at Wimbledon for decades. For fans in Los Angeles – and really, for all baseball fans – the loss of Scully is particularly painful. Nobody called a game better than Scully, and it’s unlikely anyone ever will again.
For anyone under the age of 67, his was the only voice they heard broadcasting Dodger games. His genuine warmth and ability to make every game seem special had to be heard to be believed. Maybe that’s why his final sign off was enough to bring tears to adults everywhere:
“You know friends, so many people have wished me congratulations on a 67-year career in baseball, and they wished me a wonderful retirement with my family, and now, all I can do is tell you what I wish for you.
May God give you …
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
You and I have been friends for a long time, but I know in my heart I’ve always needed you more than you’ve ever needed me. And I’ll miss our time together more than I can say. But you know what? There will be a new day and, eventually, a new year. And when the upcoming winter gives way to spring, rest assured, once again, it will be time for Dodger baseball.
So this is Vin Scully, wishing you a very pleasant good afternoon – wherever you may be.”
Goodbye Vin, you were the true artful Dodger.
Mark Vasto is a veteran sportswriter who lives in New Jersey.
(c) 2016 King Features Synd., Inc.
