OK, so I finally have lots to write about. Lots of half baked ideas looking to be…well, baked, I guess. And I really had no intention to write on the following topic. But I find things have hit me, and it’s affected me more than I thought, so I will go with it.
Famed Phillies announcer Harry Kalas passed away yesterday.
When I heard the news, I was not immediately affected. I thought it was sad, and you never heard of him being sick or anything. But as the day wore on, I found myself thinking more and more of old Harry. Look, I am not going to say I am a baseball/Phillies fan, because I am not. But there was a time in my childhood when I did follow the team. And if you followed the team, that meant you heard/saw Harry every game, every night. As many fans have already said, he was the voice in my childhood. Baseball is an incredibly parental kind of sports; sons bond with their dads over the game. For a while, I did the same with my old man.
I played baseball (pretty poorly) as a kid, and wanted to be the next Larry Bowa. I even had an ugly yellow shirt with him ironed on. This was fashion in the early 80s. And Harry was The Voice. He had been with the team since ’71. Generations of fathers and sons listened to him call the game. As someone said, he was the soundtrack to the summer. And fathers and sons would sit and listen to the game with Harry broadcasting it. (Now, I suppose I could use this as a rant about who dafuck listens to a baseball game. Apparently, it’s a big deal. It’s quite possibly tied with soccer as THE Boringest Sport on the Face of the Planet. I mean, what is there to say? “The pitcher throws the ball. The batter watches it go by for a called strike.” Seriously? Whatever.)
To generations of Philadelphians, Harry was the Phillies, he was baseball. And if you’re not from around here, you’ve still heard him. He’s been on tons of commercials, like Campbell’s Chunky soup, and also voiced NFL Films. So every January, you will still be able to hear him when ESPN does their NFL films marathons leading up to the Super Bowl. If you’re not from here, losing Harry Kalas is the equivalent of waking up with no cheese steaks or soft pretzels. Yes, it is that big of a deal around here.
Philly has been kind of lucky when it comes to our sports guys. We’ve had some true legends like Harry and Gene Hart with the Flyers. Dave Zinkoff was a famed in game announcer for the Sixers. Merril Reese has seeming been doing play by play for the Iggles like the last 60 years. Reese is a horrible homer, though. But, all in all, I am not aware of another city that has head the dearth of superior announcers than Liberty City. It’s a shame for the most part, the teams have sucked.
Losing Harry Kalas is losing a bit of your childhood. For many current fans, he’s the only voice for the Phillies. I know, at that time in my geeky life, he shared some big moments with me. All the big games and events. He’d be sharing the mike with long time partner Richie “Whitey” Ashburn as Schmidt hit 500, or the Phils beat the Expos on the way to the playoffs. The Xmas of 1980’s hottest gift was the vinyl record of Harry & Whitey calling the 80 World Series. Which never really happened in real life. At that time, the World Series was only broadcasted nationally by a national broadcast team; local broadcasters were not allowed to call the World Series. After Whitey and Harry were shut out of calling the Series, such an outcry arose, that the rule was dropped, and since then local markets can broadcast the games. So what we heard was those 2 calling the game via replay. And you know what? To my kid ears, I am sure it was magical.
How ironic, then, that Harry finally got to call a World Series the Phils actually won. I remember watching the end of the game going, “Shit, I wonder what Harry said?” The rest of the night, just about every newscast synced Harry’s call with video of the moment. As someone from the Phillies said yesterday “We have lost our voice.” There was reaction from the players themselves. Which I find kind of ironic, since they are playing when Harry was broadcasting. How could they have ever heard him? Anyway, I am sure their loss is far more on a personal level that professional.
Over the last 2 days, local radio has been flooded with fans calling in; relating their Harry memories and stories. No surprise, it turns out the guy was a true class act. (Just once, after someone dies, I would like to hear someone say, “Now that the son of a bitch is dead, I can tell you what I really thought of him.") A tribute grows at the stadium. Not that I’ve ever regularly watched the Phils over the last 20 years or so. But, usually, once or twice a season, I would drop by and check out Harry. He was always there. Always. I am sure many could close their eyes, and go back to their childhood.
Harry was beloved in this town, a fixture you really don’t realize how much you will miss till it is taken from you. Harry died yesterday, before a road game. Same way as Whitey. Harry was Philadelphia. He was known for singing “High Hopes”. (I suppose I could use this to lead to another rant about just what the fuck that song is about. Who writes songs about ants pushing rubber tree plants?) For many fans, they spent more time with Harry than any Phillie player. Not that I will ever watch another Phillie game. But when I do just happen to flick by, and not hear Harry, it will be odd. I am sure I will get many flashbacks over the next few days as his life is recalled. And I guess, down somewhere, deep, deep down, a piece of my childhood is gone. I can’t imagine how the real fans must feel.
OK, thanks for reading, and I will get to klogging the BS we all love. If you’ll excuse me, I have some rubber tree plants to move.
Famed Phillies announcer Harry Kalas passed away yesterday.
When I heard the news, I was not immediately affected. I thought it was sad, and you never heard of him being sick or anything. But as the day wore on, I found myself thinking more and more of old Harry. Look, I am not going to say I am a baseball/Phillies fan, because I am not. But there was a time in my childhood when I did follow the team. And if you followed the team, that meant you heard/saw Harry every game, every night. As many fans have already said, he was the voice in my childhood. Baseball is an incredibly parental kind of sports; sons bond with their dads over the game. For a while, I did the same with my old man.
I played baseball (pretty poorly) as a kid, and wanted to be the next Larry Bowa. I even had an ugly yellow shirt with him ironed on. This was fashion in the early 80s. And Harry was The Voice. He had been with the team since ’71. Generations of fathers and sons listened to him call the game. As someone said, he was the soundtrack to the summer. And fathers and sons would sit and listen to the game with Harry broadcasting it. (Now, I suppose I could use this as a rant about who dafuck listens to a baseball game. Apparently, it’s a big deal. It’s quite possibly tied with soccer as THE Boringest Sport on the Face of the Planet. I mean, what is there to say? “The pitcher throws the ball. The batter watches it go by for a called strike.” Seriously? Whatever.)
To generations of Philadelphians, Harry was the Phillies, he was baseball. And if you’re not from around here, you’ve still heard him. He’s been on tons of commercials, like Campbell’s Chunky soup, and also voiced NFL Films. So every January, you will still be able to hear him when ESPN does their NFL films marathons leading up to the Super Bowl. If you’re not from here, losing Harry Kalas is the equivalent of waking up with no cheese steaks or soft pretzels. Yes, it is that big of a deal around here.
Philly has been kind of lucky when it comes to our sports guys. We’ve had some true legends like Harry and Gene Hart with the Flyers. Dave Zinkoff was a famed in game announcer for the Sixers. Merril Reese has seeming been doing play by play for the Iggles like the last 60 years. Reese is a horrible homer, though. But, all in all, I am not aware of another city that has head the dearth of superior announcers than Liberty City. It’s a shame for the most part, the teams have sucked.
Losing Harry Kalas is losing a bit of your childhood. For many current fans, he’s the only voice for the Phillies. I know, at that time in my geeky life, he shared some big moments with me. All the big games and events. He’d be sharing the mike with long time partner Richie “Whitey” Ashburn as Schmidt hit 500, or the Phils beat the Expos on the way to the playoffs. The Xmas of 1980’s hottest gift was the vinyl record of Harry & Whitey calling the 80 World Series. Which never really happened in real life. At that time, the World Series was only broadcasted nationally by a national broadcast team; local broadcasters were not allowed to call the World Series. After Whitey and Harry were shut out of calling the Series, such an outcry arose, that the rule was dropped, and since then local markets can broadcast the games. So what we heard was those 2 calling the game via replay. And you know what? To my kid ears, I am sure it was magical.
How ironic, then, that Harry finally got to call a World Series the Phils actually won. I remember watching the end of the game going, “Shit, I wonder what Harry said?” The rest of the night, just about every newscast synced Harry’s call with video of the moment. As someone from the Phillies said yesterday “We have lost our voice.” There was reaction from the players themselves. Which I find kind of ironic, since they are playing when Harry was broadcasting. How could they have ever heard him? Anyway, I am sure their loss is far more on a personal level that professional.
Over the last 2 days, local radio has been flooded with fans calling in; relating their Harry memories and stories. No surprise, it turns out the guy was a true class act. (Just once, after someone dies, I would like to hear someone say, “Now that the son of a bitch is dead, I can tell you what I really thought of him.") A tribute grows at the stadium. Not that I’ve ever regularly watched the Phils over the last 20 years or so. But, usually, once or twice a season, I would drop by and check out Harry. He was always there. Always. I am sure many could close their eyes, and go back to their childhood.
Harry was beloved in this town, a fixture you really don’t realize how much you will miss till it is taken from you. Harry died yesterday, before a road game. Same way as Whitey. Harry was Philadelphia. He was known for singing “High Hopes”. (I suppose I could use this to lead to another rant about just what the fuck that song is about. Who writes songs about ants pushing rubber tree plants?) For many fans, they spent more time with Harry than any Phillie player. Not that I will ever watch another Phillie game. But when I do just happen to flick by, and not hear Harry, it will be odd. I am sure I will get many flashbacks over the next few days as his life is recalled. And I guess, down somewhere, deep, deep down, a piece of my childhood is gone. I can’t imagine how the real fans must feel.
OK, thanks for reading, and I will get to klogging the BS we all love. If you’ll excuse me, I have some rubber tree plants to move.
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