Famous Baseball Moments; Famous Baseball Calls; Vin Scully in the Context of other Baseball Broadcasters.
These are Scully’s own words about the impact of his own mentor and father-figure, Dodger baseball announcer, Red Barber as written by Scully in a 1993 Reader’s Digest article on Barber.
"I’ll never forget how Red, by the gentle power of his voice, made that game come alive.
Walter Lanier Barber was radio’s first poet, the beloved voice of the Brooklyn Dodgers for 15 years and a baseball announcer for 33. Except for my mother, he was also the most influential person in my life. My father died when I was not yet five, and Red became like a father to me in every way.
Nothing But Truth. I first heard Red when I was a kid in New York City. My family had one of those four-legged radio monsters that sat so high off the floor I could actually crawl under it. I’d lie there for hours with a box of saltines and a carton of milk, mesmerized by the play-by-play. In school, when asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, most everybody else said doctor, nurse or lawyer. I wanted to be a sportscaster.
I like the irony of Red’s soft voice informing Brooklyn’s raucous fans. I sense his justness—“That Barber,” groused a Brooklyn taxi driver, “he’s too fair.” I remember his World War II appeals for Red Cross donors, and how the blood of Brooklyn flowed in response.
But what I admired most was how he made broadcasting a conversation with the listener. Chatting as if around a potbellied stove, he regaled his audience with talk of “sitting in the catbird’s seat…tearin’ up the pea patch…a rhubarb (argument) growin’ in the infield.”
“Joe leans in. Outfield deep, around toward left…Swung on, belted! It’s a long one! Deep into left center! Back goes Gionfrido! Back, back, back, back, back, back!...He makes a one-handed catch against the bullpen! Oh-ho, Doctor!”
At Fordham University I played baseball and worked for the radio station. After I graduated in 1949, CBS-affiliate WTOP in Washington, D.C., hired me as a summer replacement announcer. In the fall, I also interviewed with CBS officials in New York, where I introduced myself to the sports, director, Red. He didn’t have much time—his wife, Lylah, was waiting in the car—but he asked for my address.
One week later, needing someone to do the backup game on his CBS-radio “College Football Roundup,” Red called WTOP to check my references. Then he rang the Scully residence. My mother garbled the message somewhat. She told me Red Skelton had called.
That Saturday was my first network assignment—Maryland versus Boston University. I thought I’d be broadcasting from a booth, so I left my coat at the hotel. But when I got to Boston’s Fenway Park, there was no booth. I went up on the roof with a microphone and 50 yards of cable.
While I fought frostbite, Red switched network coverage from the “big” game—Notre Dame’s rout of North Carolina—to Fenway. Suddenly the whole country heard me. [is this a quotation from Scully?]
On opening day 1950 I began the first of eight seasons at Ebbets Field. Now I really came to know the man who made life difficult for me—and thus enriched it.
This emphasis on objectivity was another of Red’s legacies to me. Very early on, I found I was most accurate if I looked at things with my eyes instead of my heart.
With Barber, objectivity on the field led to rectitude off it. He was the most honorable man I ever met.
Red Barber. He told the truth—no matter what.
Wrote Steve Kelley of the Seattle Times in his eulogy for Red: “Some people, I’m convinced, are meant to be immortal. Their voices and their visions are meant to continue from generation to generation. Red Barber was such a man.”
InsideBaseball.net asked Vin Scully about his own views on announcers such as Red Barber, “what are the elements and the qualities of the great baseball announcers that you’ve been acquainted with.” Scully answered,
“Well, I would think first of all, they were extremely accurate. You have to give them that. Number two, they have to understand the game and its rules. You would give them that. Also, because they were accurate, the fans believed in their judgment. If you are a rooter, if you are someone who becomes ecstatic only when a member of your team does something good, it undermines the belief of the fan. After awhile the fan thinks, I can’t trust him. He’s always cheerleading one team and not the other. So he has to be fair. And above all, I guess, besides the obvious, you’d like him to be, besides accurate, entertaining, and informative, and if he can be slightly humorous, friendly, down to earth. I think all of those qualities go into the mix I would guess.”
Comparing and contrasting Vin Scully’s calls to those of other renown baseball broadcasters, such of which he speaks, brings some of Scully’s particular artistic skill to the forefront. The six other broadcasters, and their calls, included herein, are not just any competitors. They have all been elected as announcers to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. Red Barber in 1978, Russ Hodges in 1980, Jack Brickhouse in 1983, Curt Gowdy in 1984, Jack Buck in 1987, and Milo Hamilton in 1992. They are all fine, even great broadcasters in their own right. However.
Scully has remarked about Dodger Hall of Fame pitcher, Sandy Koufax, that he was so good he belonged in a higher league. When Scully began announcing in 1950, Major League Baseball had even more levels of Minor League Baseball for a player to work his way up to the “major” league with “C” and “B” levels as well as the current, “A,” “AA,” and “AAA.” Only with slight overstatement did Scully observe that Sandy Koufax had done so well that he deserved to move up to yet a higher league. Scully also merits such a distinction, and comparing his own play-by-play calls to those of other accomplished announcers and some of their play-calls within this chapter clarifies his unprecedented level of success. The book with Scully as a Broadcaster among other noted Broadcasters, before expanding the discussion to his success as an Artist and his work as Art.
The following three calls are from two of the most famous plays in baseball history by two of its most famous announcers, with a matching call by Vin Scully of one of baseball’s most famous games, the perfect game by Sandy Koufax.
The first call is by Dodger announcer, Red Barber, making the call of Dodger Al Gionfriddo’s catch of a long drive by New York Yankee, Joe DiMaggio. By 1947 the New York Yankees had already won eight World Series, and their cross down rivals, the Brooklyn Dodgers had never won one. The Dodgers were hopeful of winning their first in 1947, the year Jackie Robinson had crossed “the color line” and integrated Major League baseball. The Dodgers were behind two games to three in 1947, but had a three run lead in the sixth inning of game six, a game at Yankee Stadium which would tie the series at three games each. Al Gionfriddo had been brought into the game for the Dodgers in the sixth inning for defensive purposes. The Yankees had two runners on base and Joe DiMaggio at bat. A homerun would tie the score.
Dodger announcer, Red Barber’s call of the Al Gionfriddo catch October 5, 1947, Yankee Stadium:
“Joe DiMaggio up, holding the club down at the end…
Big fella sets up and pitches…
Curveball high outside for ball one…
So the Dodgers are ahead 8-5.
And the crowd well knows that one swing this bat this fellas capable of making it a brand new game again.
Joe leans in…
Outfield deep round toward left the infield over shifted
Here’s the pitch.
Swung on belted…it’s a long one deep into left center…backward Gionfriddo back, back, back, back, back, he makes a one handed catch against the bullpen…
Oh Doctor!
(Crowd)
He went exactly against the railing in front of the bullpen and reached up with one hand and took a home run away from DiMaggio…”
Memorable moment, baseball history, memorable call.
The second call is Jack Brickhouse’s call (with Russ Hodges) of Willie Mays’ catch of a very long fly ball in the New York Polo Grounds during the 1954 World Series, probably the most famous catch in baseball history. Brickhouse was the announcer of the Chicago Cubs during the regular season, but doing the World Series for NBC, along with Giants’ announcer Russ Hodges. The American League Champion Cleveland Indians had won 111 games that year and were heavy favorites against the National League Champion New York Giants. In the first game, the eighth inning of a 2-2 tie, the Indians had two runners on base and were threatening to take the lead. Presumably this was a pivotal moment in the series, and indeed, after the catch the Giants went on to sweep the favored Indians in four games. Thus power hitting first baseman, Vic Wertz, came to bat against Giant relief pitcher, Don Liddle with a chance to prove the Indian’s superiority.
Jack Brickhouse (with Giant announcer Russ Hodges): New York Giants Willie Mays’ catch of Cleveland Indians Vic Wertz’ long drive September 29, 1954 at the Polo Grounds from the 1954 World Series:
"There's a long drive waaay back in center field...waaay baaack, baaack, it is...caaaaaught by Willie Mays! [garbled - some say it sounds like "Say-Hey Mays"] [pause for crowd noise] The runner on second, Doby, is able to tag and go to third; Wille Mays just brought this crowd to its feet... with a catch... which must have been an optical illusion to a lot of people. Boy! [pause] See where that 483 foot mark is in center field? The ball itself... Russ, you know this ballpark better than anyone else I know... had to go about 460, didn't it?"
"It certainly did, and I don't know how Willie did it, but he's been doing it all year." “Willie Mays just made the catch of the day.”
Well, the catch has turned out to be much more than the “catch of that day,” it has been “the catch” of major league history.
(Two anecdotes often accompany the story surrounding the catch. After “the catch” Marv Grissom came in to relieve Liddle, and Liddle supposedly told him, “Well, I got my man.” After the game a sportwriter was said to have remarked that Vic Wertz’ drive “would have been a home run in any other park, including Yellowstone.")
Mays, great catch. Hodges, great call.
The third call, to compare and contrast with the Barber and Jack Brickhouse calls is from the Vin Scully broadcast of Sandy Koufax’ perfect game. On September 9, 1965, Sandy Koufax went to the mound at Dodger Stadium having previously tied Bob Feller for the most career nohit games with three, and at the time only five perfect games had been pitched in major league baseball history. Kofax had piched no hitters in three consecutive years, 1962, 1963, 1964. His opposing pitcher, Chicago Cub Bob Hendley, pitched a one-hitter that same night, and that only Dodger hit was a bloop hit, that did not contribute to the one run that was scored that night. Perhaps the only more remarkable game for pitcher success and batter futility was a May 2, 1917 game between the Cincinnati Reds and the Chicago Cubs. After nine innings neither team had had a hit, the only time that has happened. The Reds, then, scored in the top of the tenth inning, Vaughn losing his no hitter, and Fred Toney retired the Cubs in order to complete his no hitter. In the Koufax-Hendley game the first Dodger baserunner, and only run, did not occur until the fifth inning. In the fifth Lou Johnson walked, Ron Fairly sacrificed him to second, and with second baseman, Jim Lefebvre at bat, Johnson stole third, and scored when Cubs catcher, Chris Krug, threw the ball past the third baseman and into left field. The Dodgers’ one hit was a bloop double, also by Johnson, that down the first base line, and barely beyond the reach of firstbaseman and Cubs Hall of Famer, Ernie Banks (well known for his remark on a particularly dismal day, that “it’s a great day for baseball, let’s play two). The Dodgers were also in a pennant race and needed to win every game, finishing the season with only a two game lead over the arch rival San Francisco Giants.
Vin Scully’s call of the third out in the eighth inning of Sandy Koufax’ perfect game, Dodger Stadium, September 9, 1965
“One-and-one the count to Byron Brown. Sandy back one-one fast ball swung on, and missed, strike two. Oh Doctor, this is all we needed for the national pennant race. Koufax standing back at the rubber, tugging at the bill of his cap, holds in his belt, pushes up his sleeve, goes to the resin bag and normally he is not a fidgeter out there. Now he toes the rubber, Byron Brown waiting one-and-two the count. Koufax into his windup, one-and-two pitch, curveball got him swinging. Sandy Koufax gets a standing ovation, he has struck out 11, he has retired 24 consecutive batters.”
Red Barber, announcer for the first call above, was Vin Scully’s original broadcast partner in Brooklyn, a Hall of Fame announcer, and a person whom Scully identifies as a mentor and father figure. Note that Barber punctuates Gionfriddo’s remarkable defensive play with one of his signature calls, “O Doctor.” And that Scully pays homage to that influence in his reaction to the Koufax drama, “Oh Doctor.” The similarities do not end there.
Also, note the difference in the use of suggestive physical detail used by both Barber and Scully in contrast to Brickhouse. Barber observes that DiMaggio is “holding the club down at the end.” That detail prophetically suggests that the power-hitting DiMaggio has every intention of hitting the ball a great distance. Other details include that a pitch was “high outside,” which would indicate that the “Big fella,” pitcher Joe Hatten, was trying to keep DiMaggio from pulling the ball and hitting a homerun that would tie up the game 8-8 (there were two out and two men on base), and that DiMaggio was leaning in, trying to pull the ball, which is expected to make for more power. Despite pitching DiMaggio outside, the “outfield deep round toward left, the infield over shifted,” expecting him to try to pull the ball regardless, of where he was pitched and then the added details that it was a “one handed catch against the bullpen,” at “the railing in front of the bullpen.” Quite a lot of suggestive detail that DiMaggio was trying to hit a home run, and that he nearly did.
Similarly, Scully’s call includes suggestive physical detail that portrays Koufax and the tension of working on a perfect game. “Koufax standing back at the rubber, tugging at the bill of his cap, holds his belt, pushes up his sleeve, goes to the resin bag.” The tension is palpable.
The only such physical detail in the Brickhouse call is of a “483 foot mark.” (Curiously there is some controversy about whether there was such a mark at the Polo Grounds where the game was played.)
Comparing Scully to anyone makes for invidious comparisons. Barber, Brickhouse and Hodges all extremely successful broadcasters. However, in a similar amount of broadcast air time Scully offers the clearest image, Koufax on the mound, uniquely sets the overall context for the feat, “the national pennant race,” and makes the most astute observation, that the usually implacable Koufax is fidgeting. Like Brickhouse, Scully notes the crowd reaction, and places the result in terms of the game, the number of strikeouts and retired consecutive batters. Clean edge, Scully.
Barber refers to the bat as a “club,” suggesting an influence on Scully’s frequent use of images associated with war and violence. Barber offers the fresh detail of DiMaggio holding that bat “at the end.” However, “a brand new game” was probably a cliché even in 1947, and the broadcast detail does not do full justice to the catch. He might, for example, have included the fact that Gionfriddo was left handed, a detail immortalized in the explanation of Sandy Amoros’ seemingly impossible and famous catch in the 1955 World Series. As Scully has explained, "what made Amoros' catch great," Scully said, "was that he caught it on the dead run, one-handed, with his arm extended. If he hadn't been left-handed, he wouldn't have caught it,” (because he would have had to reach across his body to make the catch). Such a detail would have further established the remarkableness of the Gionfriddo catch. Nor to my knowledge did Barber note the equally famous and uncharacteristic kick of frustration by DiMaggio as he rounded first base and saw that he had been put out. Brickhouse certainly caught the excitement of the moment, but hardly had a sense of history or perspective in describing what was to become perhaps the most famous catch in baseball history as “the catch of the day.” Scully does it all, the facts, the context, the images, the results, the statistics, in delivering what has often been referred to as the other perfect game that day, his broadcast.
The infamous Bill Bucker error in the sixth game of the 1986 World Series between the New York Mets and Boston Red Sox resulted in two famous calls, Jack Buck’s (with Sparky Anderson) on television, and Vin Scully’s on radio. The Boston Red Sox faced the New York Mets. The Red Sox had not won a World Series since 1918 and then having traded Babe Ruth to hated, rival New York Yankees. The Red Sox nation was thought to have been cursed for letting the Babe go to New York. The events of October 25, 1986, would only confirm the existence of a curse. The Red Sox led the seven game series three game to two, and had a two run lead with two outs in the bottom of the tenth inning, victory in their grasp, when the Mets unpredictably came back to tie the game. They had Ray Knight on second base and Mookie Wilson was batting against pitcher, Bob Stanley.
Jack Buck’s call of the Buckner error, Mets Stadium, October 25, 1986
“Here's the pitch to Mookie Wilson. Winning run at second. Ground ball to first, it is a run...an error! An error by Buckner! The winning run scores! The Mets win it 6 to 5 with three in the tenth! The ball went right through the legs of Buckner and the Mets with two men out and nobody on have scored three times to bring about a seventh game, which will be played here tomorrow night. Folks it was unbelievable. An error, right through the legs of Buckner. There were two on, nobody out, a single by Carter, a single by Mitchell, a single by Ray Knight, a wild pitch, an error by Buckner. Three in the ninth for the Mets. They've won the game 6-5 and we shall play here... tomorrow night! Well, open up the history book folks, we've got an entry for you...”
Vin Scully’s call of the same Buckner error
“Little roller up along first . . . behind the bag! It gets through Buckner! Here comes Knight and the Mets win it!”
Scully then remained silent for more than three minutes, letting the pictures and the crowd noise tell the story. Scully resumed with:
“If one picture is worth a thousand words, you have seen about a million words, but more than that, you have seen an absolutely bizarre finish to Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. The Mets are not only alive, they are well, and they will play the Red Sox in Game 7 tomorrow!”
Regardless whether Buck or Scully makes the call, the Sox lost and went on the lose Game Seven and the World Series not breaking the curse until finally winning the World Series in 2004. In making the call Buck’s sequence is out of order, and not to dramatic effect. If the most important results demanded first attention, “the winning run scores” has greatest import. To tell the story chronologically: the error… the run…it is the winning run. The movement in Buck’s call from ground ball to first, to a run, back to the error, forward again to the winning run scores, tells the story awkwardly. Scully gives the telling detail, and lets the tale develop. The hit ball is not merely a “grounder,” it is a “little roller,” which presumably should be easily handled, but it is not near first base, it is behind the bag, so the fan who remembers that the lumbering Bob Stanley is pitching, and may not get to first base in time to take a throw from Buckner and to beat the fast running batter-runner, Mookie Wilson, can compute that 1) if Buckner has any trouble fielding the ball, he is probably not close enough to first base to pick the ball up and step on first, and 2) he has to be worried about Bob Stanley covering first in time for his throw. It does not matter; the ball “gets through Buckner,” and for Scully it is not merely the anonymous winning run that scores, he names the man in, “here comes Knight,” setting up his conclusion: the Mets win it.” Scully, then, a consistent artistic choice on his part for moments of high baseball drama, lets the crowd tell the emotional story with a long period of silence except for that crowd noise. Buck concludes it was “unbelievable.” Scully, who had already been broadcasting for thirty-five years termed it “bizarre,” i.e. more unprecedented, one of a kind, than unbelievable. Both Scully and Buck looked forward to the seventh game “tomorrow.” Buck made this game one for the “history book.” Scully went for the “million words.” Both references bordering on the cliché, except for the remarkable circumstance that they were both most certainly correct, a single error that has been played and replayed over and over again in baseball history, video blogs, highlight shows, web page, journalistic writing.
Scully creates the superior visual picture, and for emphasis reports not just that the Mets will play tomorrow, but that they are still “alive.” A classic word picture of the little roller, still “alive,” and the “million words” forgiven in the context of a live medium, the better call.
The Kirk Gibson Homerun in the first game of the 1988 World Series
The Kirk Gibson pinch hit home run to win the first game of the 1988 World Series for the Los Angeles Dodgers against the Oakland A’s remains one of the most memorable events and stories in baseball history, often finishing second only to New York Giant Bobby Thomson’s homerun that beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1951 National League playoffs. Because it was the World Series, it also had two calls, radio and television, with Jack Buck again facing off against Vin Scully, television vs. radio. In the 1988 World Series the Los Angeles Dodgers were heavy underdogs, and their best player, Kirk Gibson, was not expected to play because of severe injuries to both legs. By the ninth inning Oakland led 3-2, and had one of the greatest pitchers in history, Dennis Eckersley, to pitch the ninth. With two outs in the ninth, Dodger Mike Davis drew a walk, and against all odds, Kirk Gibson told manager Tom Lasorda that he could bat. He limped to the batter’s box, fouled off numerous pitches, and worked the count to three balls and two strikes.
Jack Buck’s call of the Gibson World Series Homerun, October 15, 1988, Dodger Stadium
“We have a big 3-2 pitch coming here from Eckersley..
Gibson swings and a fly ball to deep right field
It’s a gonna be a homerun…UNBELIEVABLE!
A homerun for Gibson and the Dodgers have won the game 5-4.
I don’t believe what I just saw…I don’t believe what I just saw!”
(Moments after the Gibson homerun Jack Buck added this:
“I’ve seen a lot of dramatic finishes, in a lot of sports, but this one might top almost every other one.”
This observation ended up being a lot more prescient than Hodges’ observation that Willie Mays catch of the ball hit by Vic Wertz was the best of the game.) Only those at the Polo Grounds for the Bobby Thomson homerun are likely able to say that they had seen on that “topped” this one. Kudos to Buck for his sense of the historic importance of the catch.)
Vin Scully’s call of the same Gibson Homerun
Sax waiting on deck, but the game right now is at the plate.
"High fly ball into right field, she i-i-i-is... gone!!
(67 seconds of cheering)
"In a year that has been so improbable... the impossible has happened!
"And, now, the only question was, could he make it around the base paths unassisted?!
"You know, I said it once before, a few days ago, that Kirk Gibson was not the Most Valuable Player; that the Most Valuable Player for the Dodgers was Tinkerbell. But, tonight, I think Tinkerbell backed off for Kirk Gibson. And, look at Eckersley—shocked to his toes!
"They are going wild at Dodger Stadium—no one wants to leave!"
Buck’s noting a “big 3-2 pitch” is somewhat misleading in its detail. The Dodgers had runner, Mike Davis, on base, and he had stolen second base, so first base was “open.” While conventional baseball wisdom has historically been never intentionally to put what might be the “winning” run on base, that wisdom is often ignored, especially when pitching to a batter who would later be named the National League Most Valuable Player. Because Kirk Gibson was hurt, so severely that he was not expected to play at all, and would not have another at bat in the World Series, Oakland decided to pitch to him. Scully’s statement recognizes that if Gibson walks, Steve Sax would be the next person to bat, but that it appears Oakland will pitch to Gibson, so “the game right now is at the plate.” Scully describes the flyball as “high,” Buck as it being hit “deep,” Buck that it’s “gonna” be a home run,” Scully that it is “gone.” This was the first time in the history of the World Series in which a “walk off” homerun turned a defeat into a victory. And it was with two outs and on a 3-2 pitch, the ultimate baseball fantasy, often likened to the situation and magical surrealism in the film, The Natural. Undertandably, Joe Buck found the homerun, “unbelievable,” and was probably echoing the Russ Hodges’ call of the famous Bobby Thomson homerun by Russ Hodges, “I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it, in saying himself, “I don’t believe what I just saw…I don’t believe what I just saw.” Scully had the huge advantage of what is thought of in the “Canons of Rhetoric” as “Memory,” he had his season long memories of the Dodgers to call upon, thus Scully put his own disbelief in the context of the full season: "In a year that has been so improbable... the impossible has happened!” One of the greatest, if not the greatest, calls in Baseball history.
The Gibson homerun call also makes a nice juxtaposition to the historic call of the homerun usually thought of as being the most famous in baseball history, “The Shot Heard Round the World,” the homerun by New York Giant, Bobby Thomson to beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1951 National League final playoff game. In 1951 there were two leagues, the American and National, and no divisions, so the Giants and Dodgers were forced into a three game playoff to determine who would go to the World Series and face the American League Champion New York Yankees. The Dodgers had led the Giants in August by thirteen games, but the Giants managed to close that gap and tie the Dodgers for first place as the season’s end. History has credited Giant manager, Leo Durocher, for making some changes in his lineup for the dramatic turn around; and there has been subsequent speculation that the Giants had started illegally stealing the opposing catcher’s signs via binoculars in center field, signalling what each pitch would be, giving their own hitters an enormous advantage. Whatever the case, the Giants and Dodgers ended the season with identical records. In the resulting three game playoff the Giants and Dodgers split the first two games, and the Dodgers led 4-1 going into the ninth inning of the third game, in the New York Giants Polo Grounds. The Giants had scored one run, and had two men on base when Thomson came to bat.
New York Giants Announcer Russ Hodges’ call of the Thomson Homerun, the Polo Grounds, September 29, 1954
"Bobby Thomson, up there swingin'.
He's had two outta three — a single and a double —
and Billy Cox is playing him right on the third-base line.
One out, last of the ninth.
(Ralph) Branca pitches.
Bobby Thomson takes a STRIKE called on the inside corner.
Bobby hitting at two-ninety-two.
He's had a single and a double,
and he drove in the Giants' first run with a long fly to center.
Brooklyn leads it, four to two.
Hurting down the line at third, not taking any chances.
Lockman without too big of a lead at second,
but he'll be runnin' like the wind if Thomson hits one.
Branca throws.
THERE'S A LONG DRIVE!
THAT'S GONNA BE IT, I BELIEVE!
THE GIANTS WON THE PENNANT!!
THE GIANTS WON THE PENNANT!!
THE GIANTS WON THE PENNANT!!
THE GIANTS WON THE PENNANT!!
BOBBY THOMSON HITS INTO THE LOWER DECK OF THE LEFT-FIELD STANDS!
THE GIANTS WON THE PENNANT,
AND THEY'RE GOING CRAZY!
THEY'RE GOING CRAZY!
HEY, HO!!
[crowd hysteria]
I don't believe it! I don't believe it! I do not believe it!
Bobby Thomson hit a line drive into the lower deck of the left-field stands,
and the great place is going crazy.
The Giants — Horace Stoneham has got a winner.
The Giants won it by a score of five to four,
and they're pickin' Bobby Thomson up and carryin' him off the field.." - Russ Hodges
More of Scully’s call from earlier in the Kirk Gibson at bat from the 1988 World Series
"All year long, they looked to him to light the fire, and all year long, he answered the demands, until he was physically unable to start tonight—with two bad legs: The bad left hamstring, and the swollen right knee. And, with two out, you talk about a roll of the dice... this is it. If he hits the ball on the ground, I would imagine he would be running 50 percent to first base. So, the Dodgers trying to catch lightning right now!
"No balls, two strikes, two out.”
(Later in the at bat)
"Little nubber... foul—and, it had to be an effort to run that far. Gibson was so banged up, he was not introduced; he did not come out onto the field before the game. ... It's one thing to favor one leg, but you can't favor two. 0-and-2 to Gibson.
"Ball one. And, a throw down to first, Davis just did get back. Good play by Ron Hassey using Gibson as a screen; he took a shot at the runner, and Mike Davis didn't see it for that split-second and that made it close.
"There goes Davis, and it's fouled away! So, Mike Davis, who had stolen 7 out of 10, and carrying the tying run, was on the move.
"Gibson, shaking his left leg, making it quiver, like a horse trying to get rid of a troublesome fly. 2-and-2! Tony LaRussa is one out away from win number one. ... two balls and two strikes, with two out.
"There he goes! Wa-a-ay outside, he's stolen it! ... So, Mike Davis, the tying run, is at second base with two out. Now, the Dodgers don't need the muscle of
Gibson, as much as a base hit, and on deck is the lead-off man, Steve Sax. 3-and-2. Sax waiting on deck, but the game right now is at the plate.
"High fly ball into right field, she i-i-i-is... gone!!
(67 seconds of cheering)
"In a year that has been so improbable... the impossible has happened!
"And, now, the only question was, could he make it around the base paths unassisted?!
"You know, I said it once before, a few days ago, that Kirk Gibson was not the Most Valuable Player; that the Most Valuable Player for the Dodgers was Tinkerbell. But, tonight, I think Tinkerbell backed off for Kirk Gibson. And, look at Eckersley—shocked to his toes!
"They are going wild at Dodger Stadium—no one wants to leave!"
Saying that Thomson is “up there swinging” seems trite, but Hodges gives important circumstantial detail. Thomson already has two hits, so he was probably hitting with confidence. Cox is playing on the third base line. Presumably when a third baseman plays on the line, he is trying to prevent a double, but he opens up the hole between the third baseman and the shortstop, so that a single through the infield becomes a bit more likely, and such a single would most likely drive in the runners from both second and third base tying the game. Thus the Dodgers defense plays to minimize the chances of Thomson hitting a double and setting into “scoring position” as the fifth, and thus the potential winning run. “Runnin’ like the wind” also seems trite, but certainly emphasizes the importance of the runner on second needing to score to tie the game. Branca “throws” and there’s “a long drive.” Reportedly Dodger announcer Red Barber widely complained that most of the rest of Hodges’ call was the most unprofessional in history, that Hodges was “out of control.” Certainly Hodges was literally screaming, “The Giants Won the Pennant.” Are announcers to be cheer leaders for the home team, or professional journalists who report the game? Barber expected professionalism. Certainly Hodges was yelling into the microphone. However, as a written transcript, his observations are simply true. The Giants had won the pennant; Thomson had hit the homerun into the lower deck of the left field stands; the background noise confirms that the crowd was going somewhat crazy; and undoubtedly Bobby Thomson was carried off the field. The call certainly captured the emotion and the results. Announcer, Lon Simmons, defends Hodges’ call against Barber’s criticism by saying, that Hodges “was dramatic, but gave the essentials…score, meaning, who won.” Credit where credit is due regardless Red Barber’s apt concerns about professionalism.
However, compare the results to Scully’s call of the Gibson home run. At the beginning of the Gibson at bat Scully sets the context of Gibson’s season. “All year long, they looked to him to light the fire, and all year long, he answered the demands.” What an elegant, eloquent, and appropriate introduction to the Gibson at bat. Hodges might have added that the Giants season had turned around when manager Leo Durocher moved outfielder Thomson to third base, and the Giants started to get much more run production from their line-up. Scully’s “roll of the dice,” and “trying to catch lightening” might not be original, but Scully so rarely uses clichés, statements such as these rarely seem trite, and batting a disabled player was certainly a gamble, and the very presence of Gibson did seem electric. That Gibson was practically lame made the allusion to the horse shaking his leg seem very appropriate. In retrospect the Tinkerbell allusion seems a bit over the top, but then, the event continues to be remembered as perhaps the most magical in baseball history. Scully called another near perfect, if not perfect game.
“Wouldn’t you know” Henry Aaron ended the 1973 baseball season one home run behind Babe Ruth’s record for the most career home runs, 714. Aaron’s pursuit of the “hallowed” Babe Ruth record had been enormously controversial. Sorting out the legitimate controversy from the historical fact that a black man was about to eclipse the record of Baseball’s most famous star was complicated. When Babe Ruth played, the season had been 154 games long. For most of Aaron’s career the season had been extended to 162 games. Ruth’s record had been set before the “color barrier” had been broken by Jackie Robinson in 1947, so Ruth had not had to face some of America’s best pitchers, who had been relegated to the Negro Leagues because of the “gentleman’s” agreement from before the turn of the 20th Century to forbid black Americans from playing on Major League teams. Babe Ruth had been walked more often by opposing pitchers, so he had had fewer opportunities than Aaron to hit homeruns. Was Yankee Stadium, or Aaron’s Braves home park in Milwaukee and then Atlanta easier places to hit home runs. Ruth had not had death threats made on his life, Aaron had so many threats that special precautions had to be taken to protect him. Aaron had a full off season to contemplate beating the Babe, and on Opening Day in 1974 Aaron hit the home run that tied him with Ruth. The, in the home opener in Atlanta Aaron faced Dodger pitcher Al Downing in the fourth inning with a runner on first base and the Braves trailing 3-1. Curiously three separate calls of the Henry Aaron homerun that beat Babe Ruth’s record for career homeruns continue to have their own separate existences, and Scully’s call resulted in some extremely rare criticism and slight controversy that are most relevant to the points comparing Scully to Norman Rockwell in Chapter Nine.
Atlanta Braves broadcaster, Milo Hamilton’s call of Aaron’s Homerun #715, Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, April, 8, 1974:
"Now here is Henry Aaron. This crowd is up all around. The pitch to him, bounced it up there, ball one. Henry Aaron in the second inning walked and scored. He's sitting on seven-hundred and fourteen. Here's the pitch by Downing, swinging, there's a drive into left centerfield, that ball is gonna be, OUTA HERE, ITS GONE, ITS SEVEN-HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN! There's a new home run champion of all time and its Henry Aaron. The fireworks are going. Henry Aaron is coming around third, his teammates are at home plate. Listen to this crowd!" - Milo Hamilton
National Television Broadcaster, Curt Gowdy, on Aaron's 715th:
"Aaron in his earlier days used to hit more to right, right center. There’s a long drive. The ball's hit deep ... deep ... it is gone! He did it! He did it! Henry Aaron ... is the all-time home run ... leader now!" He did it!
Vin Scully on Aaron's 715th:
"Once again a standing ovation for Henry Aaron. So the confrontation for
the second time. Aaron walked in the second inning he means the tying run at
the plate now. So we¹ll see what Downing does. Pauses at the belt? Delivers and he is low, ball one. (crowd boos) And that just adds to the pressure. The crowd booing. Downing has to ignore the sound effects and stay a professional and pitch his game. One ball and no strikes Aaron waiting the outfield deep and straight away. Fastball ...there's a high drive into deep left-center field. Buckner goes back, to the fence, it is gone!"
(Scully then paused about 25 seconds as the crowd cheered)
"What a marvelous moment for baseball. What a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia. What a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol. And it's a great moment for all of us and particularly for Henry Aaron, who is met at home plate not only by every member of the Braves but by his father and mother. He threw his arms around his father, and as he left the home plate area his mother came running across the grass, threw her arms around his neck, kiss him for all she was worth. As Aaron circled the bases the Dodgers on the infield shook his hand, and that was a memorable moment Aaron is being mobbed by photographers, he is hold his right hand high in the air, and for the first time in a long time that poker face of Aaron shows a tremendous strain and relief for what it must have been like to live with for the past several months. It is over at ten minutes after nine in Atlanta Georgia Henry Aaron has eclipsed the mark set by Babe Ruth. "
“Hamilton’s “sitting” on seven-hundred fourteen seems an odd choice of diction for an historic moment. Hamilton does the home run in four parts: swinging, a drive, gonna be, outta here. Gowdy does it in a quicker four: hit, deep, deep, gone. Scully in four: high drive, deep left-center, goes back to the fence, gone. Scully adds “deep” to the left center detail of Hamilton, while Gowdy does not indicate the part of the ball park where the ball went out. Does Scully respect the listener more by being the only one of the three who does not announce that Aaron is the new career home run leader? Would any listener not know that? Hamilton notes the detail of Aaron’s teammates at home plate, but Scully is the only one to note that the group also includes Aaron’s mother and father.
As he often does, Scully lets the sounds of the crowd carry much of the emotional weight. The controversy came with what he added to the call: “What a marvelous moment for baseball. What a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia. What a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol.” Furman Bisher of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (July 24, 2007), a prominent sports writer, who also wrote for “The Sporting News,” writing in retrospect called Scully’s call “irksome.” He went on to write, “The most unbreakable record in baseball had been broken in our own precinct. Hank Aaron had broken it, and he was getting a standing ovation, and why not, I should ask? And why should it not happen in the South? My god, this was 1974. Yes, this was the South, but there was something about the way Scully said it that made your hackles rise.”
1974. Twenty-seven years after Jackie Robinso broke the “color barrier.” Is it more aptly said, “only twenty-seven years later,” or, “a full twenty-seven years later,” “ten years,” or a “full ten years” later than Norman Rockwell’s painting, “The Problem We All Live With,” which depicted the six-year old African-American girl having to be escourted to school as she integrated a school in New Orleans? Is that enough time for racial hatred to have been expunged? In 1974 Aaron was receiving death threats, although certainly not just in the deep South, for having the temerity to threaten one of Babe Ruth’s most cherished records. For Scully having said he only covers the game between the lines, meaning he has stayed out of such controversies as Baseball Labor issues and clubhouse fights, Scully has always seen the game of baseball in the context of cultural realities, and as is described in a later chapter, establishes the inseparable relationship Scully sees for the Dodgers, Baseball, Atlanta, Georgia, the United States, and the world. That commitment, and its commensurate commitment to “Truth” helps separate Scully from other broadcasters.
In his scholarly, yes, scholarly book, On Bullshit, Harry Frankfurt complains that, “Rather than seeking primarily to arrive at accurate representations of a common world, the individual turns toward trying to provide honest representations of himself.” His observation helps explain why so many baseball announcers seem so devoted to meaningless clichés, like “they came to play.” At the expense of being unfair to the often maligned baseball announcer, Tim McCarver, something he said on a broadcast reveals such a consequence of emphasizing trying to sound sincere, instead of seeking the truth. McCarver said, “"Once a guy drops his bat, base running is the biggest determining factor to whether you gonna get runs or not. It's so important. SO Important." Perhaps he made the statement in all sincerity. He sounded sincere. But it is virtually meaningless. How can one so obviously sincere be faulted? Well, it would only happen in a culture that prefers truth to ostensible sincerity. Scully’s dedication to telling the truth does not allow for clichés. Similarly, Scully is so committed to calling the game transpiring in front of him, he does not need to tell the audience what he would have done in any given situation had he been the manager. Rather he, knowledgeably, knows managers predilections and discusses the manager’s probable thoughts about bunting, stealing, using the hit and run, when to bring in the relief pitcher. He is too occupied with arriving at “accurate representations of a common world,” to stoop to worrying about an honest “representation of himself” and what strategies he might use if he were the manager.
Scully knows baseball, having played (college), observed, called, and studied the game for our sixty years. Scully adds the telling detail of Koufax fidgeting during his perfect game, because Scully is interested in and attuned to much more than the fundamentals of the game. It wasn’t just the winning run that scored after Buckner’s error, (Ray) Knight brought it home. Only someone who fully and conscientiously paid attention could observe in the heat of the moment about Kirk Gibson that, “all year long, they looked to him to light the fire, and all year long, he answered the demands.” How can someone compose such a line in the moment? How is that it was Scully who also observed and announced the presence of Henry Aaron’s parents at home plate? Who would be in position to remark that Aaron’s homerun was: “a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol.” Someone devoted to a culture of truth, and someone “seeking primarily to arrive at accurate representations of a common world.” In the book of Second Timothy in the King James version of the New Testament, Paul admonishes to “study to show thyself approved.” Scully is well known for his study, for his preparation before each game. But the King James word “study” actually, means to prepare in every possible way. A key element for Scully having transcended broadcasting and having made it an Art is related to a devotion to truth in the context of a common world.”