One booth to another
Local announcers reflect on Mike Lange’s legendary career.
Growing up about 20 minutes outside of Detroit and surrounded by Red Wings fans, Joe Block began to root for the Penguins, at least in part, because of Mike Lange. The future Pirates play-by-by man admired the Hall of Famer’s descriptive language and his ability to convey excitement while staying under control.
When Block was older and drove to Pittsburgh to watch the Penguins skate at Mellon Arena, he confused a AAA travel agent because he tried to plan a trip to Turtle Crick, unaware of how to correctly pronounce Arnold Slick’s hometown-because he learned his Pittsburgh geography from Lange.
“I was more of a baseball fan when I was younger, but I really got into hockey because Lange made the game so exciting,” Block said. “He’s extraordinary.”
While Monday’s announcement of Lange’s retirement after 46 magical years in the Penguins broadcast booth certainly hit hard at PPG Paints Arena, it was felt equally as much at PNC Park, where Lange — a lifelong baseball fan and one-time Pirates announcer himself — is revered.
Reflecting on Lange’s legacy, Block remembers introducing himself to the legend between innings a couple of years ago. Lange was visiting Greg Brown and Steve Blass. Block had seen Lange before at PPG Paints Arena but never wanted to be a pain.
“He’s Mike Lange,” Block said. “He probably gets stopped four times going to the bathroom.”
Knowing he wasn’t keeping Lange from anything, Block got to meet one of his childhood and professional idols. Predictably, Lange could not have been nicer.
“I said, ‘Mike, I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to meet you.’ ” Block recalled. “He goes, ‘Hey, Joey! How ya doin’?’ He immediately made me feel so comfortable. I was like, ‘How does he know my name?’ It never occurred to me that he watches Pirates games. In my head, I was 14. He said some nice things about watching me. I couldn’t believe it. It was such a special moment for me.”
Of all that Lange does well — there’s obviously a lot — one of the things Block appreciates most is the Hall of Famer’s colorful use of action verbs. Words like “careening” and ‘jackknifed” are regular parts of Lange’s repertoire, the same as another beloved Hall of Fame hockey broadcaster and Pirates fan, Doc Emrick.
Block also appreciated how Lange wouldn’t just scream when the action reached a crescendo. His cadence would quicken. The tone would turn more serious. And Lange expertly blended excitement with … well, it became art.
“There’s a beautiful balance between showing almost unbridled emotion yet staying under control and capturing the moment,” Block said. “I’m still trying to find that sweet spot. I get it once in a while. He’s always under control, the emotion and brilliance of the moment shining through his call.”
There’s also what Lange did off the air. For that, let’s bring in Brown, who got his start in this business because of Lange.
The year was 1986. It was the first of two seasons Lange called Pirates games on cable TV, and the Pirates had a daynight doubleheader against the Mets one June night. Brown was just 24 and had recently been appointed what would best be described as a sideline reporter alongside Lange and Steve Blass.
Brown was just starting out and eager to build his resume tape. Lange told him to be ready. Then in the middle of that doubleheader, with zero warning, Lange signed off for a couple of innings.
“Mike says, ‘When we come back, Greg Brown will take you through the seventh and eighth innings,’ ” Brown recalled. Lange took his headset off and exited through the back of the booth, stopping only to slap Brown on the back and say, “Go get ‘em, kid.”
“I’m absolutely stunned,” Brown said. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Brown, with some urging from Blass, kept the train on the tracks. Those innings yielded Brown some valuable experience, and the rest is history — Brown eventually working in Buffalo, then returning to the Pirates to join Lanny Frattare.
“I know he got in trouble for it,” Brown said. “I went to him later and said, ‘Why did you do that?’ He just responded, ‘Because I knew you were ready.’ ”
Lange, of course, has plenty of technical chops. He also knows that he’s a performer, something Lange has culled from his love of music and watching Mick Jagger on stage.
“He’s able to be himself, and he can perform and do his job as well as anybody I’ve ever listened to,” Brown said.
Even now when Lange watches Pirates games — which is often — he’ll send encouraging text messages to Brown or offer a pointer or two. “I never want to let him down,” Brown said. “I want to make him proud. That’s important to me.”
Lange meant a ton to Brown, but likely even more to Blass, the Pirates patriarch. The two called Pirates games together during Lange’s two seasons of baseball, where Blass said he learned how to let some moments breathe.
Blass said Lange would grab his arm when it was time for the on-field action to take center stage. Lange’s love and knowledge of baseball was also easy to detect, from describing the game’s nuance and bursts of excitement to deftly narrating the softer side of the game.
“He was already good,” Blass said. “He used to say that he needed a few more years, and that would have polished it off. … We would have made a hell of a team. I’ll tell you that. I enjoyed every minute of it.”
The two worked together and enjoyed many conversations about baseball over the years. They also became close friends, a relationship that exists to this day. In addition to broadcasting, Blass said that Lange taught him the importance of having fun.
When they called games together, Lange and Blass did a “Bartles and Jaymes” skit that included costumes and storyboarding. It took 16 takes because the crew couldn’t stop laughing, Blass said. They used to read the “news,” which was really Blass ripping a piece of paper, saying something came across the “ticker,” then making up National Enquirer-style headlines.
“It’s just so easy and fun to be around Mike. He’s an absolute treasure to our city.”