This seems to be the week when God calls the overachievers back home. First, Nichelle Nichols (Lt Uhura from Star Trek). Then, Bill Russell. Now, long-time LA Dodgers broadcasting legend Vin Scully is gone at 94. He was the voice of the Dodgers for 67 years — from the Brooklyn Dodgers and Jackie Robinson in the 1950s, all the way up to calling his last game in 2016.
The Baseball season is grueling even for people in their prime -- 162 games in the regular season spread out through the fruited plains, not counting games in spring training and playoffs in October. But Vin brought his A game to the booth whether it was the most important playoff or World Series game or some meaningless game in the sweltering heat of August in Cincinnati in a season where neither team was going anywhere in the playoffs. He was a thorough professional who conveyed the intricate details of the game while always recognizing that this was indeed a game, not real life.
During my graduate student years at USC, Vin Scully was my companion for three hours or so, almost every day, from Spring to Fall. For the PhD candidate and avid sports fan looking to fool himself that he was multitasking -- you know, studying while following sports on TV or radio -- baseball was ideal. Basketball and football greedily demanded concentrated attention and were continuous stimulation of the senses. Baseball, however, is a series of discrete plays with significant gaps in between, tailor-made for a raconteur who could effortlessly break up his narrative into chunks as dictated by different game situations without missing a beat.
Vin's baseball broadcast just played in the background without intrusion. He mixed in numerous stories, anecdotes and stats, and would just as easily spring a Socrates quote or WH Auden poem snippet on you, always effortlessly and without ever making it about himself.
Baseball and Vin Scully were made for each other - like peanut butter and jelly, burger and fries, chips and salsa. Many in the city of LA feel like we've lost someone in the family. Vin was a genuinely humble man who contributed mightily to the fabric of this big metropolis with an intimacy that won our hearts in a way that politicians or other sports / Hollywood stars can only envy.
There are dozens of highlights I experienced during my years of listening to Vin Scully. Listing them all would be self-indulgent. When Fernando Valenzuela, the unlikely pitching prodigy and Mexican native son, who mesmerized LA to go into "Fernandomania!" in the 1980s, pitched a no-hitter, Vin Scully delightedly exclaimed: "If you have a sombrero, throw it towards the sky!" But, the highlight that is particularly personal is the one I choose to highlight.
1988 was a year of serious turmoil in our household. Married for a year, and making decent money finally, we decided to "extend" our house in LA with multiple rooms on a second level. All the anticipation of having a bigger place to live turned into a nightmare as the contractor burned through the allocated money and left the project without a roof on the second level. We had a tarp up there for months. Uninvited critters would visit at odd hours, and that was my detail as the "man of the house". Let us just say we were both stressed. And, with the unavoidable displacement, all the appliances in the house were scattered and not working properly.
At 6 pm or so on October 15th, 1988, however, after a particularly hellish day of arguing fruitlessly with the contractor, happily for me, if not my wife, I discovered that the TV was working, miraculously!! And the Dodgers were on, and I experienced one of those magical moments that makes sports worthwhile. And Vin Scully was right there with me.
It was the 9th inning of Game 1 of the World Series between the LA Dodger and the Oakland A's at Dodger Stadium. The Dodgers were losing by a run in the bottom of the 9th and down to their last out, with a runner on first base, and no hitters left. And they were facing Oakland A's closer and ace pitcher Dennis Eckersley -- who had not allowed a run in ages.
The Dodger manager (a clownish “rah rah” man I never liked called Tommy Lasorda) sent up Kirk Gibson to pinch hit in the pitcher's spot. Once talented, but considered a bit over the hill by then, Gibson was acquired from the Detroit Tigers earlier that season to buttress the Dodgers anemic hitting, but he promptly managed to get badly injured. On October 15th, 1988, Kirk Gibson had no business walking around on his porch, let alone playing in a major-league game of that importance. But, he was the only one the Dodgers had left to throw into the fray.
Gibson hobbled to the plate, laboring on a bum leg. Even if he managed to get a hit it seemed highly doubtful that he could get to first base safely. Then started what seemed an interminable at-bat of the sort you see in baseball where the batter gradually gets his eye in simply by surviving pitches. Gibson kept cringing with pain and lunging uncomfortably at Eckersley's pitches, barely fouling off many.
And, just when you got accustomed to the excruciating anxiety of the stalemate, Gibson suddenly connected on a rocket shot, walk-off winning home run that disappeared into the Los Angeles night. The crowd burst into an entirely unexpected celebration. The Dodgers went on to win the World Series -- the As never recovered from that boomerang of fortunes.
The video is worth a watch. And, listen carefully to Vin Scully as he finds a way to describe the importance of this monumental at-bat without the high-pitched hyperbole of a typical announcer. His silence after the big moment speaks volumes -- he lets the excitement of the crowd linger in the ether and tell the story as it would if you were actually in the stadium. Classic Vin -- a commentator who does his best work by simply being quiet when needed!
I daresay that if Vin Scully were seated in a Los Angeles eatery with other LA sports luminaries like Sandy Koufax, Jackie Robinson, Kareem, Magic, Kobe, Shaq and Lebron James, the biggest crowd, from old to young, would be gathered around Vin's table. He was that beloved by all.
Here are the eloquent parting words from his final broadcast. As I get older, these words penetrate deeper into me and evoke meaningful emotions:
“You know friends, so many people have wished me congratulations on a 67-year career in baseball, and they've 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 that I've always needed you more than you've 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 it will be time for Dodger baseball.
So this is Vin Scully, wishing you a very pleasant good afternoon, wherever you may be.”
"Wherever you may be" — that was Vin’s catch phrase, always attached to every greeting and sign-off for 67 years. Wherever Vin Scully is now, he will be missed by the City of Los Angeles.