Pro baseball’s storyteller into his final windup

Broadcaster Scully has called Dodgers games for 67 years

It was in the middle of the Barry Bonds home run chase, and I was sitting with Vin Scully in the broadcast booth at Dodger Stadium.

The Dodgers were playing the Giants, and Vin had been kind enough to agree to an interview before the game. I was writing a column about his views on Bonds, though the conversation would eventually cover everything from his days at Fordham to Willie Mays.

First, though, I had a confession to make.

“I was one of those kids with the transistor radio,” I told him. “Under the pillow at night, listening to the game.”

I don’t remember what Vin said in response, but I’m sure it was gracious because Vin Scully is nothing if not gracious. It’s simply in his DNA, and has been since he was a kid growing up in New York.

His presence on the radio every spring was always a reminder that while everything changes, this never did. It changes now, for reasons as ancient as mankind. We all get old, and Vin is no exception, even if he has weathered the ravages of time well. He’s still remarkable at age 88, but wants to get out before people start whispering about his age.

His last game after 67 years calling the Dodgers will be in San Francisco.

It pains me that he’s walking away after 67 years. Not just because I’ll miss him, but because there is a sobering realization that there simply isn’t any more.

No more Vinny to greet us wherever we may be on a beautiful night from Dodger Stadium. No more seamlessly weaving stories in between pitches about players or things you didn’t know.

I’m hardly alone. If anything, I’m just one of many in a loosely formed community that calls Vinny their own.

It could have been any summer evening at Dodger Stadium. Often it was a nondescript game somehow

made interesting in the way only Vinny could.

My favourites were from the 1960s Dodgers of my youth when any ball hit out of the infield was thought of as an offensive explosion. On the rare occasion there would be a Dodger home run, and Vinny would match it with a call.

“A way back, she is gone!!!” Vinny would call out, drawing out the words for added dramatic effect.

My two sons are grown now but they have similar memories because Vinny was always on in our house or in our cars. They grew to love him too.

His final game at Dodger Stadium — where he has described nearly 5,000 games over the years — will be Sunday against the Rockies.

Then it’s three final games in San Francisco. He’ll do those in typical Vinny style, trying not to draw undue attention to himself. “And then I will go home,” he said. We wish that he wouldn’t, wish that he would suddenly change his mind and announce that he’ll be back for another season.

He wants to watch his grandkids — he has 16 grandchildren and three great grandchildren — play ball. Yes, he’ll miss the games, but mostly he’ll miss the people at the ballpark.

We’ll do the best we can to live without Vin, too. For some of us lucky enough to have been along for a lot of the ride it will be harder than others.