RIP Vin Scully

RIP.

 

Yeah, he made A1.

 

A friend struck gold with this:

“On the day of the trading deadline,
the Dodgers pulled off the greatest trade
of all time: They took a 94-year-old with
67 years' experience and made him an Angel.”

 

I would have loved to hear Vin recite Lasorda's famous "Bevaqua" rant. Among other famous works.

“I’ll tell you what I think about it. I think that is very, very bad for that man to make an accusation like that. That is terrible,” he started. “I have never, ever, since I managed, ever told a pitcher to throw at anybody, nor will I ever. And if I ever did, I certainly wouldn’t make him throw at a (expletive) .130 hitter like Lefebvre or (expletive) Bevacqua, who couldn’t hit water if he fell out of a (expletive) boat.

“And I guaran-(expletive)-tee you this. When I pitched and I was going to pitch against a (expletive) team that had guys on it like Bevacqua, I sent a (expletive) limousine to get the (expletive) to make sure he was in the (expletive) lineup because I kicked that (expletive’s) (expletive) any day of the week. He’s an (expletive) (expletive) big mouth, I’ll tell you that.”

 

RIP Vince Gully. Some blowhard national jock in the late 1990s said he liked Vince.

 

They used to tell a story about Bob Prince, a longtime play-by-play announcer for the Pirates. He supposedly was offered the job to go to San Diego, and the way the story goes, he turned it down and said, "To the south is Mexico. To the west is the Pacific Ocean. To the east is desert. To the north is Vin Scully."

RIP.

 

94 years. What a life, one worthy of all the celebration there is.

I met him one time in the Diamondbacks press box years and years ago, in the line for the pregame meal, of all things. I called him Mr. Scully and tried to let him go in front of me. He wouldn't have it and asked me to call him Vin.

 

I grew up with the voices of Pete, Skip and Ernie (and a lesser extent Don and Joe) in Atlanta (Skip and Pete also died this week at separate points over the last 14 years).

As synonymous as those three were with baseball in Atlanta, Vin Scully was, is and forever will be the epitome of baseball, period.

RIP to the greatest voice of summer there ever was.

 

I just woke up to this terrible news. I can name a dozen people who were legends, but when you think of radio play-by-play, Vin Scully's name is No. 1 by a huge margin. And baseball was just one of the sports he did so well.

To think he got the job with the Dodgers basically straight out of Fordham (I believe he did a football game from the roof of a stadium without a winter coat), tutored under Red Barber, went to Los Angeles with the team and entertained and entranced millions for close to six decades.

And despite the fact that we all knew his paycheck came from the team (and Farmer John), Scully never gave the impression he was anything but an impartial observer, the guy sitting next to you in row 35 who just happened to know a little more about all the players and was willing to tell you something you might not know about the game. "Pull up a chair, we're just getting started at Dooodger Stadium tonight..."

His pre-game prep was legendary. I'm certain he had a box full of 3x5 cards filled with player notes, a great stat guy and an amazing memory. Plus, he was an accomplished lip-reader, too.

"That'll bring up Jimmy Wynn, 0-for-3 tonight but 4-for-13 in the series and hitting .357 so far in June. A fastball from Gullett is low, ball one. The Toy Cannon has three homers against the Reds this season, all to left center and all at Riverfront. Gullett winds and delivers ... Wynn takes on the outside corner, strike one. Jimmy started his career as a Red before the Astros picked him up in the 1962 expansion draft, and Wynn has more homers against Cincinnati than any other National League team. He swings and hits a lazy fly ball to shallow left, Foster puts it away and that will do it for the Dodgers in the eighth."

He wouldn't rip a player, but he wouldn't shy away from telling you what actually happened, either. For all his famous calls, I still remember driving back to Fresno one night on desolate I-5 with the radio tuned to Vin.

"Sharp ground ball to Lopes, he'll flip it to Russell for one ... and Bill THROWS IT INTO THE GRANDSTANDS!"

I just about drove off the road, laughing.

Whether you loved or hated the Dodgers, Scully deserved respect and admiration. And all the tragedy that happened in his life never affected his love for the profession and the sport. And I think that's why it's so hard to explain why it hurts this morning to lose someone I never met.