Posted on 04/10/2011 1:12:07 PM PDT by EveningStar
I grew up a Giants fan. So, ironically, did the greatest broadcaster of any sport anytime, anyplace, anywhere. Impossibly true. Were talking Spartacus joining the Romans.
Vin Scully has been calling Dodgers games for 61 years. But I guess the 1950 job market wasnt much different than 2011s. He went where he got paid, even if the check came from the Bums.
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I don’t care all that much for baseball, but I could listen to Vin Scully call a Dodgers game, any day, any time. His voice is a part of my life’s soundtrack.
You took the words out of my mouth
Vin Scully is at (or near) the top of that list.
A lot of people forget he also called Dwight Clark’s “The Catch” against the Cowboys.
Thanks for the clip. I'm listening now.
I was a 12 year old Army brat, living in Okinawa at the time, but I would have recognized that voice in an instant, even then.
When I hear Scully’s voice I know another winter is done.
His and Curt Gowdy. Cue the American Sportsman music.
The perfect way to put it. I'm not a (radio) baseball fan, either, though the ONLY and I mean ONLY thing I miss about not having broadcast TV or cable is not getting to watch baseball. But Vin's voice calling a game is ... comfort food for the soul. When his voice is on the air, it's as if all is right with the world. I like it as much as any background music. And it's only Vin Scully. He's got to be one of the most beloved men on radio.
It doesn't get any better than that. What a righteous guy.
Well, he was a Manhattan boy, so I guess that makes sense.
American Sportsman with Gov. Joe Foss then Grits Gresham.
Finny, that just totally nails it. When I hear Vin's voice calling a Dodgers game, it floods my body and soul with a secure and peaceful feeling.
I know those feelings stem from all of the countless days of my youth, when his voice seemed to be ever-present in the background of my daily life.
If I sit quietly for a moment, and drift back to those times, I see my grand dad puttering around his shop. I hear my grandmother and my aunt talking while preparing a meal. I can almost smell the seats in my dad's old Buick Roadster, while we cruise through L.A. traffic on a hot summer's day, the throb of that big V-8 rumbling through my bones, while the warm wind blasts my face.
And all the while, there's that voice, soothingly rooting me into a day and age that would one day become a thing so precious to me, that I would pledge my very life to restore it.
bttt
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