If There's A Baseball Heaven, You Know They Have A Hell Of A Band
Yesterday, baseball lost a legend with the passing of Phillies broadcaster Harry Callas. Only 73, he collapsed in the booth prior to the Phillies-Nationals game in Washington. Kalas goes down as a legend of the game, joining names like Caray, Buck, Barber, Allen, Dean, Brickhouse, Lloyd, Quinlin, Elston and Prince on God's announcing staff.
Not being from the East Coast, I am not as familiar with Harry Kalas' work as I am his legend. Thirty-five years calling Phillies games is a the stuff legends are made of. With announcers moving from team to team these days in 3-5 year cycles, it was nice to see someone spending multiple years with the same team and live in the same community. The old guys did. The young guys don't, hearing the call of bigger markets or the networks.
Kalas did it all, from commercials to radio network football with Westwood One (which is where I heard him the most.)
What I do know is that Harry Kalas was as treasured an item in Philly as cheesesteak or the Liberty Bell. Not homegrown (but a product of Chicago) Callas won the hearts of Philly fans over his long tenure in that city. That's the mark of a great announcer. That's the mark of legends.
Also passing away yesterday was Mark Fidrych. For those of you too young to remember him or for those of you who have just seen him on film, think Turk Wendell on steroids. The dude was wacky. He looked wacky. He talked to the ball. He did weird things with his feet. And he won a bunch of games in 1976.
Unfortunately, Fidrych pitched in a bygone era, free of things like pitch counts and set up men. He threw a whole lot of innings in 1976 and by the spring of 1977, his arm was hamburger. 1976 turned out to be his only dominating year and Fidrych battled injuries and himself until he finally walked away from the game.
I was 15 in the summer of 1976 and back then there was no ESPN or Internet (yes, we were a primitive society. Thank God for the occasional stone tablet that found it's way down the river. ) I was a summer camp counselor at a place called Camp Hastings, where we didn't have a TV (because there was no cable) and when I returned from camp that summer, my buddies regaled me with stories of "The Bird." I think I saw him pitch once on the game of the week and that was about it. I know I thought he was pretty cool.
It's sort of unfair to memorialize two people that you hardly encountered in the course of their duties as announcer for the Phillies or pitcher for the Tigers. But these two particular men transcend the curtain of sports to that of pop culture and mainstream life. People know who Harry Kalas is whether or not they are a Phillies fan. Maybe from the NFL or Chunky Soup or the Puppy Bowl. And my wife sent me an e-mail yesterday wondering why I didn't tell her Fidrych had died. And to think, he never played at Alabama.
Our thoughts go out to Phillies fans, Tigers fans and the friends and families of these two great baseball legends. They will be missed, but their accomplishments will live on.
Not being from the East Coast, I am not as familiar with Harry Kalas' work as I am his legend. Thirty-five years calling Phillies games is a the stuff legends are made of. With announcers moving from team to team these days in 3-5 year cycles, it was nice to see someone spending multiple years with the same team and live in the same community. The old guys did. The young guys don't, hearing the call of bigger markets or the networks.
Kalas did it all, from commercials to radio network football with Westwood One (which is where I heard him the most.)
What I do know is that Harry Kalas was as treasured an item in Philly as cheesesteak or the Liberty Bell. Not homegrown (but a product of Chicago) Callas won the hearts of Philly fans over his long tenure in that city. That's the mark of a great announcer. That's the mark of legends.
Also passing away yesterday was Mark Fidrych. For those of you too young to remember him or for those of you who have just seen him on film, think Turk Wendell on steroids. The dude was wacky. He looked wacky. He talked to the ball. He did weird things with his feet. And he won a bunch of games in 1976.
Unfortunately, Fidrych pitched in a bygone era, free of things like pitch counts and set up men. He threw a whole lot of innings in 1976 and by the spring of 1977, his arm was hamburger. 1976 turned out to be his only dominating year and Fidrych battled injuries and himself until he finally walked away from the game.
I was 15 in the summer of 1976 and back then there was no ESPN or Internet (yes, we were a primitive society. Thank God for the occasional stone tablet that found it's way down the river. ) I was a summer camp counselor at a place called Camp Hastings, where we didn't have a TV (because there was no cable) and when I returned from camp that summer, my buddies regaled me with stories of "The Bird." I think I saw him pitch once on the game of the week and that was about it. I know I thought he was pretty cool.
It's sort of unfair to memorialize two people that you hardly encountered in the course of their duties as announcer for the Phillies or pitcher for the Tigers. But these two particular men transcend the curtain of sports to that of pop culture and mainstream life. People know who Harry Kalas is whether or not they are a Phillies fan. Maybe from the NFL or Chunky Soup or the Puppy Bowl. And my wife sent me an e-mail yesterday wondering why I didn't tell her Fidrych had died. And to think, he never played at Alabama.
Our thoughts go out to Phillies fans, Tigers fans and the friends and families of these two great baseball legends. They will be missed, but their accomplishments will live on.
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