Scully reflects ahead of last broadcast
Legendary MLB broadcaster Vin Scully reflects on his life, memories and more ahead of his final game.
Each Oklahoma City Dodgers home game features the voice of legendary broadcaster Vin Scully just before the players take the field to open the game.
“Well, we’ve had all the introductions, we’ve had all the pomp and circumstance, we’ve had all the fuss and feathers but it’s time,” Scully says in the recording. “It’s time for Dodger baseball.”
Now in his 67th year of broadcasting baseball, Scully’s voice has filled the homes of millions of people across multiple generations.
His final broadcast will be Sunday, Oct. 2, in San Francisco. The Los Angeles Dodgers are honoring him throughout this weekend, leading up to his final home broadcast Sunday.
The game will be televised by MLB Network at 2 p.m.
Scully recently spoke with media across the country on a conference call, and he spoke about his life, memories and more.
I was not quite 9 years old.
I was walking home from grammar school. I went by a Chinese laundry, and in the window was the linescore of the World Series game, that would be October 2nd, 1936, and the Yankees beat up the Giants 18-4. As a little boy, my first reaction was, “Oh, the poor Giants.” Then my grammar school was 20 blocks from the old Polo Grounds, so I could walk after school at 2:30, catch the game at 3:15 for nothing, because I was a member of the Police Athletic League and the Catholic Youth Organization. So that’s when I fell in love with baseball and became a true fan. My last game with the Giants will be October 2nd, 2016. That will be exactly 80 years to the minute from when I first fell in love with the game. So it seems like the plan was laid out for me, and all I had to do was follow the instructions.
When I was growing up as a little boy, I didn’t really — the only thing I loved in the beginning at 8 years old was the roar of the crowd.
I would crawl under this big old radio we had, and the only sports in those days would be college football on radio. And I would listen to a game that really meant nothing. Alabama-Tennessee, Michigan-Ohio State, but it was the roar of the crowd that poured out of the loud speaker like water out of a shower head, and I would just be covered in goose bumps. And each time, every Saturday I would listen, and eventually I got into, “Gee, I love the roar, I’d love to be there.” And then later on I projected I’d love to be the announcer. But I figured, the announcer that was somewhere in never, never land.
So when I went off to school and went to high school, I thought I’d be a writer. I wrote a column for the high school paper.
The column that I wrote at Fordham University was a pretty impressive column because of those who had written ahead of me. John Kieran who was a genius, Arthur Daley of the New York Times who won all kinds of awards. So I followed in their footsteps writing the column called “Looking Them Over.”
I worked as a copyboy for the New York Times, and I really thought that I’d wind up writing for a living.
But then I went into the Navy for a year. Didn’t go anywhere, didn’t do anything. And when I came back, Fordham had an FM station, and that was the opportunity and that began going in the opposite direction. Although for times I would write my own material, which I would then use on the air. So there was a definite change in direction only with the good fortune of having an FM station.
When I got into broadcasting, I was again captivated by the roar of the crowd.
So what I’ve tried to do ever since the beginning was to call the play as accurately and quickly as possible, then sit back, and revel in the roar of the crowd. And for that brief few seconds, I was 8 years old again, I guess.
I don’t know how I could have made the breaks.
I was riding the crest of a Brooklyn Dodger team that’s produced so many All-Stars, Hall of Famers so they gave me the big push. And of course I was fortunate to have a hand in broadcasting their only world championship. So I really, and I know some people will not quite understand it, but I just think it’s been God’s generosity to put me in these places and just let me enjoy it.
I loved the New York writers. When I started they took me in, so to speak.
Dick Young then of the Daily News called me “Schooly.” Kind of moved my final name, but what it was really for was like school boy, like school boy row, and I was “Schooly.” And all of the writers just helped this kid along in every imaginable way and they gave me a tremendous boost.
The thought of leaving New York was somewhat overwhelming.
All my friends, my relatives, my high school, my college, everything was back in New York, and it was a little scary. But the other side was, “Oh, thank God, I’ve got the job,” because there was a fear, and I was told this for sure, there was considerable pressure on Mr. (Walter) O’Malley that the people in Southern California wanted him to employ the announcers out here. And I’m sure for good reason. But being Mr. O’Malley the way he was, he prided loyalty, and Jerry (Doggett) and I were extremely loyal to him. We would have done anything he wanted. So there was tremendous relief that, wow, at least I’ve got the job.
Then of course when I came out here, the greatest single break, and my life is just full of breaks, but the greatest single break was the transistor radio, and the fact that people came to the Coliseum, and they were, well, what, 70-some odd rows away from the action, they knew the superstars.
I mean, they knew Willie Mays, and Stan Musial, and some of the other great stars. But the rank and file, they didn’t. So they brought the radio to find out about all the other players and maybe to help out to see what they’re trying to see down on the field.
So I think that was the biggest single break for any broadcaster coming to a new community to be able to talk directly to the fans.
We had the crowd sing happy birthday to an umpire. I had a big deal going one night asking the crowd how long is a second because the balk rule, you had to hold the ball set for one second before the pitcher would throw. So we got to where they would laugh, they would groan at a bad pun, and it was fun.
When they started to respond, I’ll always remember the worst pun I ever gave was in the Coliseum.
Joe Torre was the catcher and he caught a foul tip off his hand. He had to come out of the game. But the next day he played third base, and I was just talking to the fans and somehow this came out. I said, “Well, there is Joe playing third. If he does not ever put the gear back on behind the plate, he will forever be known as Chicken Catcher Torre.” The groan from the crowd of 50, 60,000 was something that I’ll still remember to my dying day.
The reason I did the NFL was, first of all, I was offered the opportunity and I gave it a thought.
And I kept thinking, “You know, I’ve been doing baseball so long that I could fall into a trap of just doing it by rote,” and I thought I could use a challenge. So I was offered the opportunity to do football and golf. And I thought, “You know, that’s the best thing I should get now is a boost. I need to work harder in another sport.”
So I used the NFL as much as I possibly could just trying to wake me up.
And I was privileged to work with some wonderful experts, the analysis. And then I wound up with Hank Stram doing a game that will be memorable, I guess, the one called “A Catch,” with Joe Montana and Dwight Clark. When that game ended, I got on the airplane and I was emotionally worn out from doing it and making sure I didn’t make some horrific mistake. But when I got on the airplane I thought, “OK, I’ve done it. I’ve gotten the boost that I needed for my energy.” And that was it. When the plane landed and I got home, I told my family, that’s a great game on which to call it a football career, and that was it. It served a marvelous purpose to just to reawaken me, I guess.
Well, first of all, the best way to describe the difference between radio and television, I could take Sandy Koufax’s perfect game which I did on radio, and by doing it on radio I could describe him running his fingers through his hair, drying his hand off on his pants leg, heaving a big sigh, describing in minute detail, if I could, to add to the drama.
Then let’s take Clayton Kershaw’s no-hitter two years ago. That was done on television. Well, I couldn’t describe anything that I did on radio because you were looking at it, and when I had a whole big deal on Sandy, all I could say for Clayton Kershaw when his no-hitter took place, “Well, he’s done it.” So there’s a big difference.
Well, it would only be very human to miss something that I’ve been doing for 67 years.
It’s really been a major portion of my life. It’s not been my life, but it’s been certainly a major portion of it. I think more than anything, I will miss people. When I come to Dodger Stadium, for instance, I know the lady on the elevator, and when I get off the elevator, I know the men who run the press box. And then I see all my pals who are writers and fellow broadcasters and people who are all assigned to cover the game and I really love all of that. Then the thrill, the opportunity to sit there and try to describe as best as possible what I’m looking at. The challenge is great as well. And I sure will miss all of that, and I know I will, and I’ll try to do the best I can to live with it.
You know, one of the great residuals of the job, and I hear this a lot, again, because of all the years that have flown by, people will say to me, “You know, when I hear your voice, I think of backyard barbecues with my mom and dad.
Or painting the garage with my father and your radio on listening to the ballgame.” It’s nice to be a bridge. It really is from one generation to another. I keep saying it because I mean it so much. God has been so good to me to allow me to do what I’m doing at a very young age, a childhood dream that came to pass. Then giving me 67 years to enjoy every minute of it, that’s a pretty large Thanksgiving Day for me. So, yeah, I’ve loved it, and I loved the connection with people and to hear about it, too.
I really and truly would rather they remembered, oh yeah, he was a good guy, or he was a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather.
The sportscasting, that’s fine if they want to mention it. But that will disappear slowly as, what is it, the sands of time blow over the booth. But the biggest thing is I just want to be remembered as a good man, an honest man, and one who lived up to his own beliefs.
I look back over my career, and I can remember Mel Allen leaving the Yankees.
I thought the Yankees can’t play without Mel Allen, and Russ Hodges leaving the Giants, and Jack Buck leaving St. Louis, and Harry Caray leaving Chicago, Red Barber leaving Brooklyn. I mean, all these were, oh, my gosh, they’ll never be the same. But you know what, a year or so, however long it takes and you’ll be history, and I know that, and someone else will hopefully ride and have a great career in your place.