McCarver was player, champion, broadcaster
There was something about a broadcaster with a homespun Southern drawl, describing a baseball game – either on radio or TV – that uniquely appealed to New York fans.
Red Barber in the Dodgers booth, by way of Mississippi and Sanford, Florida, became a legend in Brooklyn, as was Alabamian Mel Allen in the Bronx.
Later, the Mets arrived, to the pleasing sounds of Tennessee’s Lindsey Nelson and Oklahoma’s Bob Murphy, who became the iconic voices of a new franchise.
Tim McCarver hailed from Memphis, and maybe you wondered how he’d fit into Mets telecasts in 1983, having started his baseball broadcast career in Philadelphia, with Nelson gone, Murphy exclusively on the radio, and Ralph Kiner as the TV mainstay.
There were no discernible Gotham ties to McCarver, whom most New York fans knew passingly for breaking Yankee hearts in the 1964 World Series or being Steve Carlton’s personal catcher.
And then he began to speak to us in a most familiar way.
McCarver spun stories and relayed the action with that sense of wonder, excitement and sparkle – in a honey-dipped Southern lilt, with a Gene Kellylike
Irish American charm.
Over four decades as a Hall of Fame broadcaster, McCarver’s infectious love for the game was beamed to generations of baseball fans.
That’s the gift he left us, along with a deeper appreciation for the game and those who played it, upon his death last week at 81.
“Timmy was such a charismatic guy,” said Yankees manager Aaron Boone, who grew up in the Philadelphia Phillies clubhouse, when McCarver was the backup to his All-Star father, Bob.
“Even as a little kid, (his charisma) was something that struck me,” said Boone, who first became a broadcaster after his big-league career. “(McCarver) was kind of who you looked to as how it’s done.”
You remember McCarver’s playing career for the rarity of spanning four decades, starting in 1959 with the St. Louis Cardinals and ending in 1980, with Philadelphia.
A two-time world champ with the Cardinals, McCarver batted .478 in the seven-game ’64 World Series and belted the go-ahead, 10th-inning homer in their Game 5 win at the old Yankee Stadium.
But as a broadcaster, you remember him retelling the story of Bob Gibson, who threw all 10 innings in Game 5 and nine more in Game 7, on two days’ rest to win it.
Two ninth-inning homers cut the St. Louis lead to two runs, but McCarver frequently recalled the words of Cardinals manager Johnny Keane, who stuck with Gibson to the end: “I had a commitment to his heart.”
Or the times when McCarver – in one he told on himself – visited the mound, only to hear Gibson growl: “The only thing you know about pitching is that it’s hard to hit.”
He kept you alert to what might happen on a certain count, what type of pitch was likely to be coming next and why, or which pinch-hitting threat was lurking for a late-inning chance.
Even after leaving the Mets for the networks, Tim McCarver would always be part of the sound of baseball in New York, continuing a distinct lineage.