Editor’s Note: This post was originally published Sept. 19, 2016. We’re republishing it following Vin Scully’s passing at age 94.
As you probably know by now, legendary Dodgers broadcaster Vin Scully will call the final game of his 67-season career on Oct. 2 when the Dodgers take on the Giants in San Francisco.
On a conference call Monday to discuss his departure from the game, Scully stressed several times that he believes the enormous attention and respect he has received this season stem largely from his longevity. But on the same call, Scully very clearly demonstrated his incredible gifts as a storyteller.
Scully speaks in almost perfect prose. He’s folksy but never disingenuous, intelligent but never inaccessible, informed but never unimpressed. And it seems an apt tribute to Scully to showcase the ease and talent with which he tells stories by simply transcribing them all here.
What follows is almost the entirety of what Scully said in the course of his conference call. For the sake of clarity, I edited out the questions, all of his pleasantries with the reporters asking them, and the couple of times he repeated a story to answer a similar prompt.
On his history of broadcasting in San Francisco, and on finishing his career there
“When we arrived at Seals Stadium, they did not really have any kind of a radio booth. We didn’t televise. So we actually were one row behind the regular fans, and once they realized that we were doing, for instance, a beer commercial live, they’d start hollering — just good-naturedly — they’d start hollering the names of all the other brands of beer they could think of. So that taught us to record all the commercials, rather than be heckled by the fans. And they would also do, in all honesty, I’d be doing a game at Seals Stadium, and a fellow would just turn around and just say to me, ‘Do you have a match?’ It was that informal, and that close. So that was an experience. But it was new, it was exciting, and the fans were fun.
“At Candlestick, the wind was a nightmare, but I also felt the surroundings affected the personality of the audience. I could be completely wrong. But it was cold and raw, windy, and I think the people in the stands were unhappy and sometimes would take their unhappiness out — we actually had one or two players, if I remember correctly, go up into the stands over somebody making some terrible remark.
“But once they moved to AT&T Park, it’s completely different. The fans are good-natured, they’re happy, they’re fair, they’re wonderful. And though I certainly know nothing about mass psychology and all that stuff, I think the weather at Candlestick kind of embittered the fan. And the weather at AT&T has made it a wonderful party atmosphere. No meanness at all.
“I was not quite nine years old, I was walking home from grammar school, I went by a Chinese laundry. And in the window was the line score of the World Series game, that would be Oct. 2, 1936, and the Yankees beat up the Giants, 18-4. And as a little boy, my first reaction was, ‘Oh the poor Giants!’ And then my grammar school was 20 blocks from the old Polo Grounds, so I could walk after school at 2:30, catch the game at 3:15 for nothing because I was a member of the Police Athletic League and the Catholic Youth Organization. So that’s when I fell in love with baseball, and became a true fan.
“My last game, with the Giants, will be Oct. 2, 2016. That will be exactly 80 years to the minute from when I first fell in love with the game. So it seems like the plan was laid out for me and all I had to do was follow the instructions.”
On the role of announcers in baseball culture and the difference between television and radio
“The best way to describe the difference between radio and television: I could take Sandy Koufax’s perfect game, which I did on radio. And by doing it on radio, I could describe him running his fingers through his hair, drying his hand off on his pants leg, heaving a big sigh — describing in minute detail if I could to add to the drama.
“Then let’s take Clayton Kershaw’s no-hitter two years ago. That was done on television; I couldn’t describe anything that I did on radio, because you were looking at it. And where I had a whole big deal on Sandy, all I could say for Clayton Kershaw for his no-hitter when it took place was, ‘well, he’s done it.’
“So there’s a big difference. You could also make a cliche out of it and say when you come into the radio booth, there’s a blank canvas, and for about three hours you’re trying to paint whatever you’re looking at. But on television when you walk into the booth, the picture’s already there, so immediately you’re just trying to add a few comments beneath the picture.
“Growing up in New York, as a child and as I grew older, the voices of Mel Allen and Red Barber, they were part of my family, just listening every day. So I can understand that, and for all of us, I can say we’re all extremely grateful to have that reaction from the fans. And of course you’re going to get criticism as well, but it keeps you in line.”
On all the attention he’s getting
“I attribute it to one thing and one thing only: God’s grace, to allow me to do what I’ve been doing for 67 years. To me, that’s really the story. It’s not really me, I’m just a vessel that was passed hand to hand down through all those years. So I don’t take it to heart as some great compliment, I just realize that because I’ve been doing this for 67 years, that’s why everybody wants to talk about it. So I think I’ve kept it in proper perspective, even though it is a little embarrassing, to be honest. I’m uncomfortable with it. I’ve never wanted to get out in front of the game. I mean, gee whiz — Giants and Dodgers tonight, I don’t want people to think, ‘oh this is Vin’s last whatever,’ I just want them to enjoy the Giants and the Dodgers. So I am uncomfortable having been pushed out into this spot. But again, I realize the only reason there’s all this fuss and fury is that I’ve lasted 67 years.
“I didn’t want to say goodbye like they do in grand opera, where they say goodbye 25 times in 15 minutes. I’ll be saying goodbye to the people here at Dodger Stadium, I’ll be saying goodbye to baseball in general when I leave in San Francisco, and I couldn’t possibly think, and then I’m going to say goodbye from, let’s just say Washington or New York, doing radio in the playoffs. It just didn’t work right to me. So to me, we’ll tie the ribbon on the package in San Francisco, and that’ll be that.”
On what he would have done if he wasn’t broadcasting, and if he’ll be able to control his emotions in his last game
“When I was growing up as a little boy, the only thing I loved in the beginning at eight years old was the roar of the crowd. I would crawl under this big old radio we had, and the only sports in those days would be college football, on radio. And I would listen to a game that really meant nothing — Alabama-Tennessee, Michigan-Ohio State — but it was the roar of crowd that poured out of the loudspeaker like, really, water out of a shower head. And I would just be covered in goosebumps.
“And each time, every Saturday, I’d listen. And eventually, I got into, ‘Gee, I love the roar, I’d love to be there.’ And then later on it projected, ‘I’d love to be the announcer.’
“But I figured the announcer, that was somewhere in never-never land, so I figured, when I went off to school, and went to high school, I thought I would be a writer. I wrote a column for the high-school paper. The column I wrote at Fordham University was a pretty impressive column because of those who had written ahead of me. John Kiernan, who was a genius, Arthur Daley of the New York Times, who won all kinds of awards. So I followed in their footsteps writing the column, called “Looking Them Over.’ So that’s what I thought. I worked as a copyboy for the New York Times, and I really thought that I’d wind up writing for a living.
“But then I went into the Navy for a year — didn’t go anywhere, didn’t do anything — and when I came back, Fordham had an FM station, and that was the opportunity, and that began going in the opposite direction. Although for a time, I would write my own material, which I would then use on the air. So there was a definite a change in direction, only with the good fortune of having an FM station.
“As far as emotions are concerned, I think I’ve got them in check, but you never know. You never really know. And I don’t think I’m going to stress anything about me, I’ll try to just do the game. I really will. I’ll concentrate on Denver as if they’re challenging the Dodgers for first place. And the game will take its place and hopefully carry me along with it ’til the very end. I think I’ll be OK.”
On longtime Brewers broadcaster Bob Uecker
“No. 1, in all honesty, I love Bob. I loved him as a player who would always, as you said, downgrade his own abilities. But he was always popular with his own teammates, so you knew he was a good guy. When he eventually got up into the radio and television booths, I would see him. We used to get together, usually in Atlanta when he started, and I’d meet him in the press box, and be able to watch an inning or two with him before going back on the air. And he would just keep me in stitches. Through the years, I’ve really looked forward to seeing him anytime that we were playing his team. And I did regret when I cut traveling and then he cut traveling and I didn’t have a chance to see him again.
“I do remember, I did an interview with him in Milwaukee, and we sat on two chairs, and it was the hardest interview I have ever done, because he had me crying inside with laughter, and i’m trying to continue without just falling down on the ground. It was the usual stuff, about how he found out he was no longer a member of the team when he went to the dressing room and they said to him, ‘Sorry, no visitors allowed.’ That was marvelous way to get the news, I guess. But I just love him, and any treasured minute with him is worth a lot.
“I’ve been asked, or told a lot about, ‘Oh it won’t be the same, we’ll miss you, etc,’ and that’s very nice. But you know what? I look back over my career, and I can remember Mel Allen leaving the Yankees, I thought, ‘The Yankees can’t play without Mel Allen.’ And Russ Hodges leaving the Giants, and Jack Buck leaving St. Louis, and Harry Caray leaving Chicago, Red Barber leaving Brooklyn. All these were, ‘oh my gosh, it’ll never be the same.’ But you know what? A year or so, or however long it takes, you’ll be history, and I know that. And someone else will hopefully ride and have a great career in your place.”
On the way he connects generations
One of the great residuals of the job, and I hear this a lot — again because of all the years that have flown by — people will say to me, ‘you know, when I hear your voice, I think of backyard barbecues with my mom and dad, or painting the garage with my father with the radio on, listening to a ballgame.’ It’s nice to be a bridge, it really is, from one generation to another. I keep saying it because I mean it so much: God has been so good to me to allow me to do what I’m doing at a very young age — a childhood dream that came to pass — and then giving me 67 years to enjoy every minute of it. That’s a pretty large Thanksgiving Day for me. I loved it, and I loved the connection with people, and to hear about it, too.
On moving to L.A. with the Dodgers
“Wellk I think the first emotion was, it was somewhat bittersweet — maybe that’s not the proper word — but the thought of leaving New York was somewhat overwhelming. All my friends, my relatives, my high school, my college, everything was back in New York, and it was a little scary. But the other side was, oh thank God, I’ve got the job. Because there was a fear — and I was told this for sure — that there was considerable pressure on Mr. O’Malley, that the people in Southern California wanted him to employ the announcers out here, and I’m sure for good reason. But Mr. O’Malley being the way he was, he prided loyalty, and Jerry (Doggett) and I were extremely loyal to him — we would have done anything he wanted. So there was tremendous relief that, wow, at least I’ve got the job.
“And then of course when I came out here, the greatest single break — and my life is just full of breaks — but the greatest single break was the transistor radio. And the fact that people came to the Coliseum, and they were 70-someodd rows away from the action. They knew the superstars — they knew Willie Mays and Stan Musial, and some of the other great stars. But the rank and file, they didn’t. So they brought the radio to find out about all the other players, and maybe to help out to see what they were trying to see down on the field.
“So I think that was the biggest single break for any broadcaster coming to a new community to be able to talk directly to the fans. We had the crowd sing Happy Birthday to an umpire. I had a big deal going one night asking the crowd how long is a second, because the balk rule — you had to hold the ball set for one second before the pitcher would throw. So we got to where they would laugh, they would grown at a bad pun. It was fun.
“I’ll always remember the worst pun I ever gave was in the Coliseum. Joe Torre was the catcher, he caught a foul tip off his hand, and he had to come out of the game. The next day he was playing third base, and I was just talking to the fans, and somehow this came out. I said, ‘Well, there’s Joe playing third. If he does not ever put the gear back on behind the plate, he will forever be known as Chicken Catcher Torre.’ The groan from the crowd of 50 or 60 thousand was something I will still remember to my dying day.”
On getting to call a home run by his childhood friend, Larry Miggins
“Whenever I’m called upon to give some small speech somewhere, especially if there are a lot of young people in the audience, I always wind up with that story, for the simple reason. I tell the kids, ‘Don’t be afraid to dream. Don’t think, oh, well I could never do that, or that could never happen.’ That story has a pretty good impact on young people, to get them to try to be what they aspire to be.”
On a marathon weekend in 1989
“I was doing the game of the week as well as the Dodger games. And so, on Saturday — I forget whether I was in Chicago or St. Louis — but I did a game on Saturday afternoon, and then got on an airplane to fly to Houston. And I actually walked into the booth just as they were announcing the national anthem, and so I then did that game.
“Well the game that night in Chicago or St. Louis, whichever, that was 10 innings. Then the game in Houston that night went 23. And then, Sunday, another 13 innings. So I did something like 46 innings in whatever many hours. And the best part of the story is, when the game ended I came out of the booth admittedly a little tired, and there was a telegram waiting for me. And it was from one of my dearest friends in the world, who was a sportswriter in San Diego by the name of Phil Collier. And it was just perfect. The telegram read, ‘Lou Gehrig was a wimp!'”
On if he’d attend a 2016 World Series game
“Probably not. I’ve certainly had experience with large crowds. So probably not. I’m not sure, because, what, the last time they won was 1988? I would probably watch however, sure. And maybe if I was invited to the last game, or whatever, maybe I would go. But basically, once I call it an end, which will be Oct. 2, I’ll try very hard to just stay back and be the very normal guy that I am.”
On if there were any events he wished he were able to call but never did
“Oh, gee, no. My cup does runneth over. I’ve been so fortunate. They’re not my accomplishments, and I stress that, but I’ve done 20 some-odd no-hitters and x number of perfect games and x all-stars and x world series games, and a big football game and the Masters golf.
“No, God has been incredibly kind to allow me to be in the position to watch and to broadcast all these somewhat monumental events. So no, I’m really filled with thanksgiving and the fact that I’ve been given such a chance to view. But none of those are my achievements; I just happened to be there.”
On what he’ll miss when he leaves baseball
“It’s very human to miss something that I’ve been doing for 67 years. It has really been a major portion of my life. It has not been my life, but it has been certainly a major portion of it. I think more than anything, I will miss people. When I come to Dodger Stadium, for instance, I know the lady on the elevator, and when I get off the elevator, I know the men who run the press box. And then I see all my pals who are writers and fellow broadcasters, and people who are all assigned to cover the game. And I really love all of that. And then, the thrill, the opportunity to sit there and try to describe, as best possible, what I’m looking at — the challenge is great as well. And I sure will miss all of that. I know I will, and I will just try to do the best I can to live with it.
“I’m fortunate: I have a wonderful wife, i have 16 grandchildren, we have three little great-grandchildren. I’m going to spend some time watching ballgames, I think, because a couple of the grandboys are good players. They really are what I’m looking forward to. But I will miss it, I know that.”
On late Giants broadcasters Russ Hodges and Lon Simmons
“I knew them both very well. First of all, with Russ, when he was back in New York, I can actually remember one night in his kitchen, harmonizing with Russ and Ernie Harwell — one of the beautiful memories in my entire life. Russ was just terrific, he was a wonderful broadcaster, very emotional, I just loved being with him. We spent a good bit of time together.
“And then on the West Coast, when I met Lon, every time I went to San Francisco, I think Lon and I played golf, and then when he came down here he could play at my place. I remember them both very well. We had a lot of good kidding, of course, about our rivalry and the two teams, but they were both wonderful friends — as well as a great team, fine broadcasters.”
On the Dodgers-Giants rivalry
“You really have to go back to New York. You have to realize that Dodger fans and Giants fans were in a lot of cases shoulder to shoulder all year long, working at their jobs. I can remember, as a kid, working at the post office during the Christmas holidays, trying to make some money. And we would be slotting mail — hundreds of ’em, standing in front of the little cubbyholes, and putting mail into the holes. And we would spend all the time slotting and arguing about who was better, Duke Snider or Willie Mays, etcetera, etcetera.
“Also, the borough of Brooklyn had an atmosphere of it’s us against the world. The Giants were the lordly team on the Harlem River, and they would come over to Brooklyn. In the olden days, they tell me, McGraw would bring the Giants over to Brooklyn in horse-drawn carriages, and the people of Brooklyn — the real fans — would throw things down at them. The rivalry was somewhat bitter because of the fact that there was a great deal of friction. At least now, you have several hundred miles separating the cities — oh, sure, there are Giants fans down here and there are Dodger fans in San Francisco — but it’s not quite the bitter rivalry that they had in New York, and I’m delighted for that. I really am.”
“I grew up, really, in the bleachers at the old Polo Grounds. So my seat would probably be, maybe 450 feet from home plate, or if I was lucky I’d be in the grandstand, but no matter where you sat, you felt the rivalry. Because the people worked together, lived together, and argued all year long. So it’s a little different.”
On players and umpires visiting him in the booth
“I’m deeply touched and overwhelmed with gratitude that they would take the time. And it is kind of an awkward situation, because at Dodger Stadium the visiting clubhouse is way down near the right field foul pole, and yet a lot of them have made that trek in uniform just to come up and say hello. I really am greatly touched. It’s just one of the loveliest things that has ever ocurred in my life. And then, the umpires come in..
“Years ago, Bruce Froemming — who was a friend, we would see Bruce at spring training in Vero Beach — one night, no one knew it would happen, Bruce and his umpiring trio came out, they went to home plate, had the exchange of lineup cards, then turned around, and they all took their caps off and held it out in the air in saying hello to me. And I was absolutely blown away, and the other umpiring crews have done the same. All of them, when they come in, they take their hats off, they look up. Some bow, kiddingly, and I wave or bow or do whatever I do. It’s just a wonderful emotional bridge. And now they’re coming up to say hello and goodbye. It’s just a marvelous opportunity to meet a lot of people whom I could not meet because of the way the ballpark is built and the work that I have to do in the booth before the game.”
On how he’d like to be remembered
“I really and truly would rather be remembered — ‘Oh yeah, he was a good guy.’ Or, ‘He was a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather.’ The sportscasting? That’s fine if they want to mention it. But that’ll disappear slowly as, what is it, the sands of time blow over the (goose?). But the biggest thing is I just want to be remembered as a good man, an honest man, and one who lived up to his own beliefs.”
When asked if he made his own breaks
“I don’t know how I could have made the breaks. I was riding the crest of a Brooklyn Dodgers team that has produced so many All-Star Hall of Famers, they gave me the big push, and of course I was fortunate enough to have a hand in broadcasting their only world championship. I know some people won’t understand it, but I think it has been God’s generosity to put me in these places and let me enjoy it.”
More on the Dodgers-Giants rivalry
“One thing, you might very well want to sum up the Giants-Dodgers rivalry. In Ebbets Field, the home dressing room was separated from the visiting dressing room by a door, a very simple door. And there were some bad moments. Really, I think around the time Carl Furillo was beaned, and Leo was running the Giants, they nailed up that door. So you couldn’t open it — you couldn’t get into either room. To me that’s a trial and testimony to the fact that the feelings really ran high.”
On if he wished he had continued calling NFL games for a bigger national profile
“Oh no, not at all. The reason I did the NFL — first of all, I was offered the opportunity. And I gave it a thought and I kept thinking, you know, I’ve been doing baseball for so long, that I could fall into a trap of just doing it by rote. And I thought, I could use a challenge. And so I was offered the opportunity to do football and golf, and I thought, ‘you know, that’s the best thing I could get now is a boost; I need to work harder in another sport.’
“So I used the NFL as much as I possibly could to just try and wake me up. And I was privileged to work with some wonderful experts — the analysts — and I wound up with Hank Stram doing a game that will be memorable I guess — the one called, ‘The Catch,’ with Joe Montana and Dwight Clark. When that game ended, I got on the airplane, and I was emotionally wiped out from doing it and making sure I didn’t make some horrific mistake. And when I got on the airplane, I thought, ‘OK, I’ve done it. I’ve gotten the boost that I needed for my energy.’ And that was it. When the plane landed and I got home, I told my family, ‘That’s a great game on which to call it a football career.’ And that was that. It served a marvelous purpose, just to reawaken me, I guess.'”
