A fan base of storytellers
Re “Vin Scully and the meaning of voice,” Opinion, Aug. 4
IGREW UP INTOXICATED by Dodger baseball. My dad had three daughters. I was the eldest. By default, that made me like his son. The first sporting event of any kind he took me to was a Dodger game against the Houston Astros when I was in first grade. We sat in the then-red seats on the top deck, so high above the field that I was too afraid to walk to and from our seats. I sat on the concrete steps and scooched my way up and down during the game.
That next night and every night of every season after, I fell asleep to the Dodger game. Every Dodger fan knows that meant I was lulled to sleep by the sound of Vin Scully’s voice.
My connection with Vin Scully ran deeper than baseball. He was my first storyteller. Before I ever encountered “Charlotte’s Web” or “To Kill a Mockingbird,” even before I learned to read, Vin told me a bedtime story every night.
It was never just a baseball player up at bat, but a human being with a rich story. Every strikeout became a personal heartache. Every home run was a shared victory with this player, his family and his entire hometown.
Vin was a great storyteller. He was the first gardener who planted a seed in my young mind. He made me, and millions of other youngsters out in the Dodgerverse, want to become writers and tell their stories too.
Thanks, Vin. This is not the end, because now we get to watch your seeds grow.
Rosalia Mattern, Cypress
San Francisco, Candlestick Park, 1985. In a pre-game trance, I’m walking along the third-level deck when I see a man strolling toward me wearing a navy blazer, gray slacks, Oxford blue shirt, dark blue tie, light hair and not a care in the world.
Oh my God, it’s Vin Scully. And he’s singing, I swear to God he’s singing: “When Irish eyes are smiling sure it’s like a morn in spring. In the lilt of Irish laughter you can hear the angels sing.”
And as I pass him, like a devout child before a bishop of the church, I look at him in awe, and he breaks the tune just a moment to look directly at me and give me a blessing — some simple, lovely words.
I’ve never seen a happier man.
I returned to my seat, sat with my wife and children and watched the Dodgers demolish the Giants. What a lovely day.
Craig Brooks
Bellingham, Wash.
Just after I married my husband, Vin Scully gave us the greatest wedding gift ever — kindness.
About 52 years ago we were on our honeymoon in San Francisco. We were (and still are) avid Dodger fans. We went to see the Dodgers play the Giants.
My husband bought me a Dodger pennant, which I was holding up on the drive back to the hotel. We noticed in a car next to us that Vin Scully was waving to us. Unbeknownst to us, he was staying at the same hotel.
We got out of our cars at the same time and I ran over to Vin and two others and joyously told them we had been to the Dodger game and we were on our honeymoon. The three of them were so nice and suggested we take a picture.
So there we were, Vin Scully, my husband, Jerry Doggett and I, posing for a picture. Al Campanis took the photo.
We will never forget that moment and the kindness showed to us.
Darlene Frank
Camarillo
Vin Scully was God’s gift to the Dodgers and their fans. He helped me through my darkest hours.
In 2011, weakened from cancer treatments, I would lay on the sofa and listen to the Dodger games.
He was witty and entertaining, and his mellow voice projected a comforting sense of peace.
Jane Czajkowski
Beaumont
Vin Scully was with me on one of my darkest days, consoling me as I did laps around the oval dirt driveway of my childhood home.
The Dodgers had a doubleheader against the fearsome Cincinnati Reds, and my divorced dad had promised to take me. Inning by inning ticked off in the transistor radio as Vin held my hand describing the contest as only he could. I could smell the Farmer John hot dogs.
As the afternoon sun started to set, I no longer hoped to hear Pops’ flower-powered van pull up. I realized he was a no-show. But I had Vin. And that was enough for now.
Jon Flick
Grand Terrace
I am quite deaf but have worn a hearing aid since I was about 8 years old. No hearing aid is powerful enough to fully compensate, so I rely on lip reading for a big assist.
The thing about Vin Scully was his enunciation was so good that I could listen to him on the radio by turning the volume up really high. And it was such a joy for a pretty lonely boy to listen to a friendly voice with all his stories and beautiful descriptions.
We have lost a great man whose honesty and humility should be an example for everyone.
Bill Mosier
Hermosa Beach
As I have been reading all the stories and tributes to the most wonderful Vin Scully, all I keep on thinking is why can’t people like Vin (or John Wooden, another great human being) be the ones in public office running our country?
The world would be a much better place.
Roberta Murawski
Los Angeles
After my parents hugged Vin, I came up to him, balling like a baby:
“I have been waiting 35 years for this moment!”
He gently grabbed my quivering hand with both of his, gently squeezed me, and said:
“It wasn’t worth the wait, was it?”
You better believe it was.
Efren Bojorquez
Phoenix
Beyond his great calls of Dodger games and stories that created a lifetime of memories, Vin Scully reminded us of all that is good and decent and true, showing us how to treat each other with kindness and respect.
When he retired nearly six years ago, I put this message on my church’s signboard: “Be like Vin Scully — notice and praise the good in everyone.”
Now, it is not just left to us to remember Vin Scully saying, “It’s time for Dodger baseball.” It’s also time for trying to be more like Vin Scully.
John Saville
Corona