Who’s the best sports announcer of all time? It’s a loaded question, right? The answer may depend on your regional biases and how old you are. First off, let’s accept the fact that there have been many excellent announcers over the years, both radio and television. Let’s rephrase the question. Who is your favorite sports announcer of all time? That’s better, isn’t it? After all, we’re all different and have different preferences.
Among my early favorites were the trio of Frank Gifford, Don Meredith, and Howard Cosell. They made the calls on Monday Night Football back when Monday Night Football was a thing. My father and I never missed a game in the early ’70s. We had one television in the house and it was hooked to an outside antenna. The antenna sat on top of a tall pole attached to the side of our house. There was a hole in the pole in which we inserted a metal rod so we could turn the antenna to get better reception, which was dependent on the weather and what channel we were watching. We only received three channels. We’d alternate turns each week on turning the pole in all sorts of weather, while the other stood at the front door shouting when to stop. The neighbors probably thought we were crazy, but like I said, Monday Night Football was an event.
Today, professional football has saturated the airwaves: Thursday, sometimes Saturday, always Sunday and Monday. Back in the day, we got two games on Sunday and the big event on Monday night. You had no choice as to what game you could watch, and you liked it. Gifford often played the straight man, giving the facts and moderating between the other two more volatile personalities.
Gifford, blessed with Hollywood good looks, had been a star halfback, first with USC and then for the New York Giants. He was one of the best in the game until he ran into the massive left forearm of Chuck Bednarik. The play, one of the most famous in NFL history is simply called “the hit”. It knocked Gifford unconscious and hospitalized him for ten days. He missed the entire 1961 season recovering from the concussion. Today, that hit would certainly draw a roughness penalty and most likely an ejection and fine for Bednarik. Years later, when Gifford married Kathie Lee, he said to her that she should get used to hearing the word Bednarik around him. She thought maybe it was some Italian restaurant, totally unaware of her future husband’s place in NFL history.
Meredith, the color man, often spoke of his playing days with the Dallas Cowboys. If you want a primer on that, read Pete Gent’s excellent book “North Dallas Forty”. Or if reading’s not your thing, watch the movie. Both are fantastic. When a big play towards the end of a game put the dagger in the opposing team, Meredith would break out Willie Nelson’s hit song: “Turn out the Lights, the Party’s Over”.
The real wildcard though was Cosell. A noted boxing announcer (Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!) Cosell was a brilliant, acerbic, obnoxious, entertaining, sometimes intoxicated loud voice. There was no middle road with Howard, you either loved him or hated him. I fell into the love camp, recognizing him for what he was: an entertainer. His parries with Muhammad Ali were instant classics and his intros to Monday Night Football were must-see TV. I still recall his electric introduction one Monday in the early 1970s. I can’t find it online, so my best remake will have to suffice:
Cosell: “Welcome viewers to the game of the year, from the Windy City, the city of broad shoulders, birthplace of the NFL, home to the Monsters of the Midway, the meatpacker to the world, home of the Kansas Comet, the city that works, that Toddlin’ town, Soldier Field Chicago, Illinois! Where the resurgent Bears play host to their division rival the Minnesota Vikings!”
You read that in Cosell’s voice, didn’t you?
Another of my favorites, naturally, were the early Royals broadcasters of Bud Blattner, Denny Matthews, and Fred White. I spent hours every summer listening to them call games from Municipal Stadium. One of the gifts that this crew had, and that you’ll see later in the very best, was the ability to shut up and let the game breathe. They didn’t feel the need to fill every empty space with mindless chatter. You could hear the crowd buzzing in the background. You could easily make out the organ music and often I could hear a vendor crying out, “Frosty malts. Get your frosty malts here!” They also did a great job of describing the action: “2 balls one strike on Paul Schaal. Amos Otis on second, one out, bottom of the fourth. The Royals lead the White Sox 3-to-1. Here’s the pitch from Wood. Ball three.” Then five seconds of silence. All of it was wonderful and made you feel like you were sitting in the crowd watching the game.
As for the best, isn’t it almost impossible to rank? There have been so many good ones, men like Mel Allen and Red Barber. Jack Brickhouse and one of my all-time favorites, Harry Carey. Jack Buck. Ernie Harwell. Bob Uecker. Jerry Coleman and Harry Kalas (now for the Alcoa Fantastic Finish!). I could name another ten with no problem. Maybe fifty more. Again, your favorite probably depends on your age and what part of the country you live in. I understand that. After all, we are regional people. Your place of birth and where you live usually determine which baseball and football team you cheer for.
For me though, the greatest is Vin Scully. I was never a Dodger fan but would often tune in just to hear Vin call a game. And like Blattner and Matthews, Vin knew when to shut up and let the crowd do the talking. I am fortunate to be at an age where I heard many of Scully’s most famous calls.
Vin called Hank Aaron’s record-breaking 715th home run on April 8th, 1974.
“Fastball, a high drive in deep left-center field, Buckner goes to the wall. It..is.. gone!”
Then Scully stepped away from the mic for a full twenty-two seconds to let the listener hear the roar of the crowd. It was very powerful. Vin knew how powerful the crowd noise could be (“like water out of a shower head”) and he used it to maximum effect.
“What a marvelous moment for baseball. What a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia. What a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A Black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol. And it is a great moment for all of us, and particularly for Henry Aaron, who was met at home plate, not only by every member of the Braves, but by his father and mother.”
Vin called Kirk Gibson’s improbable World Series home run in 1988. “All year long, they looked to him to light the fire, and all year long, he answered the demands—until he was physically unable to start tonight, with two bad legs: the bad left hamstring and the swollen right knee. And with two out, you talk about a roll of the dice, this is it.”
Gibson, looking totally overmatched, worked the count to 3 and 2 against Dennis Eckersley, the best closer in the game.
“High fly ball into right field, she is gone!” Scully said, as Gibson hobbled around the bases. Scully then stepped away from the mic and let the crowd roar for 67 seconds before adding: “In a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened.”
Scully also had other famous calls. Don Larsen’s perfect game in the World Series. “Got him! The greatest game ever pitched in baseball history, by Don Larsen. A no-hitter, a perfect game, in a World Series.”
Game Six of the 1986 World Series, “little roller up along first, behind the bag. It gets through Buckner! Here comes Knight! The Mets win it!” Then he didn’t say anything for two full minutes, letting the roar of the crowd tell the story.
He was behind the mic when Joe Montana lofted what looked like a desperation pass late in the 1981 NFC Championship game: “Montana looking, looking, throwing in the end zone, Dwight caught it! Dwight Clark!” Scully let the crowd roar for nearly 30 seconds before returning to the mic: “It’s a madhouse at Candlestick, with 51 seconds left,” he said. “Dwight Clark is six, four; he stands about 10 feet tall in this crowd’s estimation.”
My favorite call of Scully’s is one I didn’t hear live. It was the call of Sandy Koufax’s fourth no-hitter.
“Two and two to Harvey Kuenn, one strike away. Sandy into his windup, here’s the pitch:
Swung on and missed, a perfect game!”
Scully stays silent for 38 seconds as the crowd cheers.
“On the scoreboard in right field it is 9:46 p.m. in the City of the Angels, Los Angeles, California.
Beautiful. Like water out of a shower head.