Champions 2023: Al Michaels
But the fates pointed his way again in 1989 when he was innocently introducing Game 3 of the Giants-A's World Series for ABC — and felt a searing jolt. The transcript is not as memorable as "Do you believe in miracles?" But factor in shock value, and it's close:
"I tell you what, we're having an earth … [static, picture and audio goes out, then Al's voice returns in low-fidelity]. I don't know if we're on the air or not, and I'm not sure I care at this particular moment. But we are. Well, folks, that's the greatest open in the history of television. Bar none … We are still as we can tell on the air, and I guess you are hearing us even though we have no picture and no return audio. And we will be back, we hope, from San Francisco in just a moment."
In the ensuing mayhem, ABC called Al down to their truck to be a newsman. He knew the streets of San Francisco from his days with the Giants, and he and Ted Koppel seemed connected at the hip. "Al's not sitting there with researchers giving him notes; he's carrying the telecast himself," says Dennis Swanson, then president of ABC Sports. "I thought to myself, 'I don't know how many people could do this in the business, but I could probably count them on one finger: Al Michaels.'"
He'd learned from his Hawaii/Bobby Valentine incident to stick to the facts, to avoid speculating on the gravity of the earthquake or amount of deaths. He was nominated for a news Emmy, lauded as a universal voice of reason. "I've never seen pressure get to him, ever," says Fred Gaudelli, who would later spend 22 years as Al's producer. "On air, off air, I've never seen him sweat."
But the fates pointed his way again in 1989 when he was innocently introducing Game 3 of the Giants-A's World Series for ABC — and felt a searing jolt. The transcript is not as memorable as "Do you believe in miracles?" But factor in shock value, and it's close:
"I tell you what, we're having an earth … [static, picture and audio goes out, then Al's voice returns in low-fidelity]. I don't know if we're on the air or not, and I'm not sure I care at this particular moment. But we are. Well, folks, that's the greatest open in the history of television. Bar none … We are still as we can tell on the air, and I guess you are hearing us even though we have no picture and no return audio. And we will be back, we hope, from San Francisco in just a moment."
In the ensuing mayhem, ABC called Al down to their truck to be a newsman. He knew the streets of San Francisco from his days with the Giants, and he and Ted Koppel seemed connected at the hip. "Al's not sitting there with researchers giving him notes; he's carrying the telecast himself," says Dennis Swanson, then president of ABC Sports. "I thought to myself, 'I don't know how many people could do this in the business, but I could probably count them on one finger: Al Michaels.'"
He'd learned from his Hawaii/Bobby Valentine incident to stick to the facts, to avoid speculating on the gravity of the earthquake or amount of deaths. He was nominated for a news Emmy, lauded as a universal voice of reason. "I've never seen pressure get to him, ever," says Fred Gaudelli, who would later spend 22 years as Al's producer. "On air, off air, I've never seen him sweat."
