I don't usually post things here that don't relate to DCcityball, at least in some tangential way, but frankly I just wanted to write this, and ITV is the only forum I've got. Anyway, I know at least a few of you are Phillies fans, Chuck from the Sharks, Dave from AAR, Wigs from Pourhowzers, Amy the Liger, etc...so maybe someone will enjoy this.
Philadelphia Phillies announcer Harry Kalas passed away today, here in DC before the Phils game with the Nats. He was pronounced dead at GW University Hospital, my alma mater, actually. Those of you who know me know that I've been a long suffering (relatively long at least, considering my age) Philadelphia sports fan; in fact, being only 24 years old, I had never been alive for a Philadelphia championship in any professional sports league until last season's Phillies' World Series victory.
Keeping that in mind, I grew up watching the Phillies, every chance I got. I watched the Joe Carter home run in '93, I suffered through the Rico Brogna teams, the Omar Daals and Mark Whitens, Kevin Stockers, etc... the Scott Rolen debacle, and coming up about 2 games short every season for what seemed like a decade. Then in 2007 I watched Brett Myers throw a 4th pitch strike to end the final game of the season(against the Nats), clinching the Phillies first NL East title in what, to me, might as well have been forever. Through all of that losing and heartbreak and fleeting glimpses of triumph, there was one constant -- the baritone voice of Harry Kalas. "Look at the scene on the field. Look at the scene in the stands," were Kalas' words following that fateful game in the fall of 2007. The Phils were 2007 NL East Champs and Harry Kalas' voice solidified it.
Again, last year, when Brad Lidge's slider found itself buried in leather, ending a 4-3 game that spanned multiple days and storms, Harry Kalas was there to make the call. His voice made it real.
When I was 5 years old, in 1989...(maybe it was 90 when he made the speech) I think I formed my first baseball memory. At least its the first memory I can remember -- Mike Schmidt retired. I was in Philadelphia at my grandmother and grandfather's house. My whole family was crowded around the TV -- one of those 27 inch jobs that are built into the heavy wooden frames. My aunts were crying, and I didn't understand. I asked my mother why someone would be crying about a man not playing baseball anymore. My mother, born and raised walking distance from Shibe Park, replied "Because he was great."
Being five I'm sure I didn't know I was doing it... but that day I made the connection between sports and emotion. My aunts and mother weren't sad because Schmidt was hurt, or ill -- just because they'd never get the chance to see him do what he was great at ever again. They could watch old tapes and they'd have their old memories, but from that day on, with the third basemen's retirement speech, there would never be a new one.
Throughout my childhood, my father taught me baseball, but my grandfather taught me the Phillies. I have a head full of memories of myself, sitting on the brown and white shag carpet in Philadelphia next to my grandfather, unlit cigar in his mouth, as he yelled at a televised young rookie named Jimmy Rollins for popping up the first pitch of 2 consecutive at bats. My grandfather passed away several years ago but people say they still see some of him in me... mostly when I watch the Phillies. Really, anyone who's watched a game with me knows I'm still yelling at Rollins' pop-outs, still cursing at the players on the screen even though I know they can't hear me.
When my grandfather passed, I wasn't just sad because he died, but because despite the photos and old memories, I'd never have a new anything to remember with him. I'd never watch another Phillies game by his side. That, in a way, is kind of how it feels today. Whether I was watching the Phillies with my grandfather, or my dad, or my brother, or Maria, Harry Kalas was always announcing.
I'm sad he's gone, but I've got tapes and DVDs and youtube -- his voice won't be forgotten. But still, I'll never hear a new call, not another "Outta here!" or "Watch this baby go!" or "Struck 'im ouuut!"
I'm glad Harry got to call one last World Series win...and I'm glad I got to hear it. But knowing that he won't call another, even if I get the chance to see one, is what really makes today sad.
Rest in Peace, Harry. Thanks for the Memories.
- Play ball.
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