VOICES IN THE DARKNESS

            When Harry Kalas died the other day (fittingly in a broadcast booth, I thought) it brought to mind that lineup of old time baseball announcers; the men you knew instantly by the sound of their voices, a particular phrase used often and delivered in just such a way --- Mel Allen, “The Scooter” and Harry, of course.

            A long time ago (not so long that the memories have gathered a whole lot of dust) there was radio. Television was a wild dream far beyond the imaginations of most of us, newspapers were fine but generally late with the news and the news reels at the movies always came in a week after the fact so radio filled a huge hole in our information diet.

            On warm summer evenings you could take a walk down nearly any street, listen to the murmured conversations, the tinkling ice in a drink and you could hear something else as well: you could hear America, the voices of sports announcers cutting across time zones to bring us the latest from the ball parks we knew we would never get to save in our imaginations. Each team had its own announcer and the sound of his voice became as familiar to us as that of a favorite uncle. We were tied into the rest of the United States and the next day we would be on common ground with anyone when it came to the runs, hits and errors of the night before.

            Harry Kalas tied that era to the present and made baseball on radio come alive in our minds eye --- it’s fair to say he did a pretty good job on television too. I wonder if there will be anyone to replace him at least in the manner I’ve become accustomed to: a voice out of the night, a voice that tied us all together.