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I grew up in L.A., listening to Vin Scully broadcast Dodger games in the 1960s and 1970s, and thereafter whenever the game was within my reach. In the stadium, it didn’t matter if your transistor radio battery died, because every third person (it seemed) had the play-by-play on full volume.
The man was a master of his art, never speaking when it wasn’t necessary, and never omitting an important detail. He let the roar of the crowd tell the listener that the ball was heading over the fence, and he never became a partisan cheerleader.
Irreplaceable.
Last night, the San Francisco Giants hosted the Los Angeles Dodgers, but only after a moving pre-game honor, and moment of silence.
The New York Times today has three full pages on his life and legacy.
R.I.P., Mr Scully.
The man was a master of his art, never speaking when it wasn’t necessary, and never omitting an important detail. He let the roar of the crowd tell the listener that the ball was heading over the fence, and he never became a partisan cheerleader.
Irreplaceable.
Last night, the San Francisco Giants hosted the Los Angeles Dodgers, but only after a moving pre-game honor, and moment of silence.
The New York Times today has three full pages on his life and legacy.
R.I.P., Mr Scully.
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