By Rick Stanton
Referring to the 1988 World Series theatrics, during which Kirk Gibson made baseball history, Hall of Fame broadcaster Bob Costas is quoted saying, “So, I’m in the booth, Kirk Gibson hits a home run and the place goes bananas. I sit there, and for that little moment, I’m eight years old again.”
Says Costas of Vin Scully, who was calling that game, “He never shouts, but he has a way that he can capture the excitement. If you listen to the 1988 Gibson home run…in a year that had been so improbable…he was letting the crowd carry Gibson around the bases, but then he also had that tenor quality that cut through the crowd.”
As a life-long sports fan, I’ve been very fortunate to have grown up listening to great sportscasters like Mel Allen, Ernie Halwell, Jack Buck, Harry Caray, Lindsey Nelson, Jon Miller, Costas, Dave Niehaus and, thank God, Scully.
The one thing all of these greats had in common was an appreciation for the moment, and the ability to shut the hell up and let the moment fill the space. Art directors call this “white space.”
With the loss of Niehaus, what we now have in the Puget Sound sports market is a lot of “white noise.” I’ve tried to point this out in letters to the sports editor of the Seattle Times, but the letters never get published. I attribute this to the Kumbaya nature of most things Seattle. Don’t piss anyone off, and don’t get anything changed.
The fact of the matter is this: our sportscasters, with rare exceptions, never stop talking. This isn’t limited to baseball, but the baseball guys are the most egregious violators of motor-mouthitis.
Stop telling me the same story three different ways in 90 seconds. Stop using repetitive phrases, like “he dropped the barrel on the ball” and “he’s got good wheels.” And stop telling me what color uniforms the teams are wearing. It’s not a damn fashion show, it’s a baseball game!
All of a sudden, every one of the local baseball voices is channeling Ron Fairly—who could repeat a dumb, redundant bit of information five times an inning with irritating regularity. And I can’t count the number of times Niehaus would say something noteworthy and, without fail, Fairly would repeat it as if he had said it first. Dave’s incredulous pauses at times like these were always palpable—and appreciated by the listeners.
One thing that he and all the great sportscasters of the past had in common was their unique sense of style. Today’s guys—as well as the gals—all sound the same.
As a long-suffering Seattle sports fan, I plead for one simple change from the local sports mouthpieces: shut up once in a while already…and let the crowd and the moment speak for themselves. If you love sports, too, please read the linked article.
God, I miss Bob Rondeau.
https://www.si.com/mlb/2016/05/10/vin-scully-dodgers-tom-verducci-profile
As a Red Sox fan, it’s been tough over the last few years with Jerry Remy battling cancer, again. RemDog has been broadcasting the Sox since 1988. His expertise, on-field experience, and brilliant Boston wit carried Red Sox fans through the “Dark Years” and there were 86 of them until the curse was lifted in 2004. Remy doesn’t call a lot of games these days and that viscous Boston accent is undeniably absent from the broadcast booth. The same can be said of Niehaus, even when the Mariners suck, and they do that a lot, we could always depend on Dave for a clever quip, an enlighting story, or just saying something, anything to make devastation of the losses palatable.
– Kevin
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