Plenty of reaction to my post from earlier today recalling Harry Caray on the 15th anniversary of his death. So I decided to post more clips of Caray doing what he did best.
Singing the 7th inning stretch while with the White Sox.
Caray describing Stan Musial’s game. Note who sets up the piece. None other than ol’ Diz.
On the call during the pivotal 7th inning of the 7th game of the 1968 World Series.
Caray talking to Bob Costas.
Has it really been this long? On Feb. 18, 1998, Harry Caray died in Palm Springs.
That means more than 15 years have gone by since Caray called his last game for the Cubs’ season finale in 1997. It dawned on me that a new generation of fans have arrived to the scene without ever hearing Harry.
It doesn’t seem possible, considering he was the voice of so many generations during a 53-year career with the Cardinals, A’s, White Sox, and Cubs. Fifteen years since his death? Really, it seems like only yesterday that I held my transistor radio to my ear to hear him belt out his signature call of a Dick Allen homer in 1972.
I know there are people who worship at the living shrine of Vin Scully, regarding him as baseball’s Babe Ruth of play-by-play men. Scully’s brilliance, and now remarkable endurance, is the stuff of legend.
However, in my mind, Harry Caray was the best there ever was in terms of bringing fun and excitement to a baseball game.
Unfortunately, many fans only remember him for his later years with the Cubs, when a stroke and age robbed him of his sharpness. He still was entertaining as a unique character, but his best years were behind him.
During his prime, nobody was better. His descriptions were vivid, and he always was brutally frank, earning the admiration of fans and rancor of players and managers. Here’s a link of Caray’s best calls with the White Sox during in the 1970s compiled by Mark Liptak of WhiteSoxInteractive.com.
Myron Cope had this description of Caray from a 1968 article in Sports Illustrated:
No sir, Caray is having none of that drawing-room dignity affected by the boys with pear-shaped tones. Nor, as he settles into his Busch Stadium chair for a series with the Giants, is he having any of that kid-glove technique the ballplayers love so well.
“Here’s Ty Cline, who’s modeled a few uniforms,” Caray announces in the first inning. “His name reminds you of Ty Cobb.” Then the withering appendage: “And he’s batting .185.” From the enemy Caray soon turns to the home team. “Here’s slumping Orlando Cepeda, with two strikes on him and two runners waiting to be driven in. Struck him out, on a bad ball!” Back to the Giants. At bat is Willie Mays, of whom broadcasters speak encomiums. Steve Carlton fires. “Hooo! What a cut he took!” Carlton fires again. “Hooo! What a cut! Man, I’ve never seen Mays take a more vicious cut in his life. Looked like he left both his feet!” Carlton fires a third time, and Mays lands among the mortals. “Struck him out—on a bad fastball over his head!”
When Caray died, I was assigned to write the front-page obit for the Chicago Tribune. I tried to capture the essence of the man in the booth:
Harry Caray was fun. It was that simple.
Fun was the theme of one of his trademark lines. On a hot, summer afternoon, with the game either languishing or careening toward its finish _ it didn’t matter _ Caray would chortle, “Ah, you can’t beat fun at the old ballpark.”
Caray made baseball’s most exciting moments more fun. He made baseball’s mundane moments fun.
He had fun with names, those he intentionally pronounced backward, and those he unintentionally mangled or misprounced (even Cubs great Ryne Sandberg was called Ryne Sanderson at times, or merely “Ryne-berg,” and he gave up trying on Ken Caminiti). During his days with the White Sox, he made foul balls fun, hanging a net out of his broadcast perch. Caught a few, too.
He wasn’t just a man of the fans. On occasion he sat with them, calling games from the bleachers. He knew where to have the most fun. Only Harry Caray could take a tired old custom like the seventh-inning stretch and transform it into a memorable, magical, albeit off-key, Chicago ritual.
For 162 days and nights during the season, the man with the gravel voice, glasses made from window panes and trademark “Holy cow!” was a once-in-a-lifetime life of the party. The party never will be the same.
Sure enough, the party hasn’t been the same.
Here’s to you, Harry. Now and forever.
Mike Piazza doesn’t admit to taking steroids in his new book, Long Shot. No real surprise there, I suppose.
However, Piazza does take a swing at Vin Scully. Big surprise.
I mean that’s like going after the Tooth Fairy.
From Bill Plaschke of the Los Angeles Times:
Piazza blames Scully for stirring the fans’ ire in a 1998 interview in which the legendary announcer challenges the slugger for giving the Dodgers an ultimatum on stalled contract talks. Piazza had criticized the Dodgers in an opening-day story in The Times, even implying that the contract impasse would affect his play. He is now accusing Scully of turning his words against him.
“The way the whole contract drama looked to them — many of whom were taking their view from Scully — was that, by setting a deadline and insisting on so much money, I was demonstrating a conspicuous lack of loyalty to the ballclub,” Piazza wrote of the fans, later adding, “Vin Scully was crushing me.”
When contacted by The Times’ Bill Shaikin about the charges, Scully was clearly wounded, saying, “I have no idea where he is coming from. I really have no idea. I can’t imagine saying something about a player and his contract. I just don’t do that.”
Piazza already had a credibility problem before going after Scully. Now it’s completely gone.
Really, is anyone going to believe Piazza over Vin Scully?
Even Piazza’s biggest supporter was dismayed. Writes Plaschke:
Fifteen years later, Piazza has misguidedly polluted it again. In an attempt to sell a book that he surely hopes will edge him closer to the Hall of Fame — he fell short this winter in his first year of eligibility amid rumors of steroid use — he has pushed himself further from his Dodgers home.
“I’m very disappointed in that, I’m sorry he would even do that,” Lasorda said Thursday. ”I don’t know what he was thinking.”
Sad story for a player who was beloved in Chicago and Arizona
The AP report:
Former Arizona Diamondbacks television analyst Mark Grace was sentenced to four months in jail after pleading guilty Thursday to felony endangerment and misdemeanor driving under the influence of alcohol.
A Maricopa County Superior Court spokesman says Grace will be allowed out of jail for work while he serves the sentence beginning Feb. 10.
Court spokesman Vincent Funari says the sentence also includes two years of probation.
The 48-year-old former first baseman with the Diamondbacks and the Chicago Cubs was fired after he was arrested last August in Scottsdale – his second drunken driving arrest in 15 months.
Grace had pleaded not guilty in October to four felony counts of aggravated DUI and was scheduled to go on trial March 19.
Next on Costas at the Movies: Penny Marshall and Geena Davis discuss A League of Their Own (Monday, 8 p.m. ET, MLB Network). As always, Marshall is very entertaining.
Highlights from MLB Network:
Penny Marshall on Demi Moore almost being cast as Dottie Hinson:
“Demi Moore, I liked, but by the time we came around, she was pregnant. So Bruce [Willis] literally screwed her out of the part.”
Marshall on hiring Madonna:
“I lost a girl who was good because her pilot went for television, so that takes first priority. So I had to look for a hot girl who could dance. … Well, [Madonna] could dance and she’s hot. So, she was on her way to Cannes for ‘Truth or Dare’ to promote that and I said, ‘Well, I can’t wait.’ So she tried out in New York at St. John’s. … In three hours, the coaches called [and] said, ‘Trainable.’”
Marshall on casting Tom Hanks:
“Tom Hanks came to me and wanted to be in it because he had had some movies that didn’t do so hot.”
Marshall on actresses playing hurt:
“They all played injured. Lori [Petty] had a cast on. Rosie [O’Donnell] had broken fingers…They played their hearts out because they respected these ladies.”
Geena Davis on learning to play baseball:
“Before the movie, I couldn’t play baseball at all…But I got pretty good.”
Davis on who the best player in the cast was:
“Rosie O’Donnell, no doubt. She could actually play.”
Davis on portraying the quirks of a baseball player:
“I made a bit of a study of that kind of thing. I watched a lot of baseball and tried to pick up people’s mannerisms.”
Davis on wearing skirts to play baseball:
“Some of our real cast, from sliding into home, had ripped the skin off their legs. It was nutty.”
The next edition of Costas at the Movies features the classic, Bad News Bears (Monday, 8 p.m. ET, MLB Network).
Bob Costas sits down with Tatum O’Neal to recall the movie and its legacy. Then the movie follows.
Here’s same excerpts of the interview from MLB Network:
Tatum O’Neal on preparing for the role of Amanda Whurlitzer:
“I took three months of heavy-duty pitching lessons.”
Tatum O’Neal on Walter Matthau:
“He was so talented. I’m just so lucky to have worked with him. He could do anything and he knew exactly how to do this role. He knew exactly how to just be a complete mess.”
Tatum O’Neal on her character:
“It’s so funny because I have a group of 48-year old men, like Vince Vaughn…who have posters of “Bad News Bears,” Jason Patric, Quentin Tarantino. There’s a group of people, mostly men, who think that character of Amanda Whurlitzer is the most appealing little girl at that age…It must be a toughness with a little femininity.”
Tatum O’Neal on being visited in the hospital by Matthau after a car accident:
“A couple of years later, when I turned about 15, I had a car accident. Lumbering down the hall was Walter, he said, ‘Kid, I just had to come in and see that you were all right.’ I can’t say that was true for every actor I’ve worked with…It was a pretty special moment for me, one that I will never forget.”
Tatum O’Neal on the relationship between Amanda and Coach Buttermaker in the film:
“It’s so real. You see the camaraderie that Walter and I had in the same way really that me and my father did at the time.”
Tatum O’Neal on the film’s legacy:
“It’s so funny. It’s so sweet. It’s sweet and, yet, it’s completely wrong. It’s just so wrong on so many levels.”
They are keeping Bob Costas busy at MLB Network. I like this vehicle, which debuts tonight.
From MLB Network:
Hollywood stars Tommy Lee Jones (Cobb), Tatum O’Neal (Bad News Bears) and Geena Davis (A League Of Their Own) and directors John Sayles (Eight Men Out), Penny Marshall (A League of Their Own) Ron Shelton (Cobb) and Barry Levinson (The Natural), will discuss the beloved baseball movies they helped deliver to the big screen in MLB Network’s new series Costas at the Movies, hosted by Bob Costas, premiering Monday, January 14 at 8:00 p.m. ET. Following each 30-minute Costas at the Movies episode, MLB Network will air the night’s featured film.
Each Costas at the Movies episode will take an in-depth look at a baseball film, including Cobb (January 14), Bad News Bears (January 21), A League of Their Own (January 28), Eight Men Out (February 4) and The Natural (February 11), featuring interviews with the actors, actresses and directors who helped make these films special. A new Costas at the Movies episode and the night’s featured film will air every Monday from January 14 through February 11 beginning at 8:00 p.m. ET. MLB Network’s Costas at the Movies schedule is available below.
The first installment of Costas at the Movies on January 14 features an interview with Cobb star Tommy Lee Jones and director Ron Shelton discussing the 1994 biopic about Detroit Tigers Hall of Famer Ty Cobb. The following week on January 21, Costas at the Movies will feature an interview with actress Tatum O’Neal discussing her role as the team’s star pitcher, Amanda Whurlizer, in Bad News Bears. Costas at the Movies continues on January 28 with Costas looking back at A League of Their Own with its director Penny Marshall and Geena Davis, who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her portrayal of fictional catcher Dottie Hinson.
The series’ fourth episode on February 4 will feature an interview with Eight Men Out director John Sayles discussing the 1988 motion picture about the 1919 Chicago White Sox and the eight members of the team who were banned from baseball after allegedly throwing the World Series. Costas at the Movies concludes on February 11 with director Barry Levinson joining Costas to discuss the mythical tale of Roy Hobbs in his film, The Natural.
Costas at the Movies Schedule:
*All episodes begin at 8:00 p.m. ET followed by the night’s featured film*
Monday, January 14 – Cobb
Interviews: Actor Tommy Lee Jones (Ty Cobb) and Director Ron Shelton
Monday, January 21 – Bad News Bears
Interview: Actress Tatum O’Neal (Amanda Whurlizer)
Monday, January 28 – A League of Their Own
Interviews: Actress Geena Davis (Dottie Hinson) and Director Penny Marshall
Monday, February 4 – Eight Men Out
Interviews: Director John Sayles
Monday, February 11 – The Natural
Interview: Director Barry Levinson
Given that nobody got elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame this year, the New York Times’ Harvey Araton believes this would be a good time for the writers to bow out of voting for Cooperstown.
Araton writes:
The standard trade maxim that journalists should never be part of the story has been a longtime red flag in the process, especially in baseball, but never has it carried the weight it does now, in the age of players tainted by performance enhancement. If the exclusion of Pete Rose has more or less been a matter for the commissioner’s office to legislate, why leave it to reporters to determine what to do with the likes of Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds?
It’s baseball’s club, and reporters shouldn’t be part of the clubbiness. Let the Hall get together with Major League Baseball to figure out what to do about the mess the sport created with its willful ignorance when steroid use was rampant and not even tested for, indisputably altering statistical measures for enshrinement. Speaking of shrines, that’s another thing the news media should not be engaged in, elevating the general perception of Cooperstown to something more mystical than it really is.
On the eve of the big game, Michael McCarthy writes in Advertising Age that college football is rapidly closing the gap on baseball as the nation’s No. 2 sport behind the NFL.
McCarthy offers several sets of numbers, including this passage:
Other research indicates the Grand Old Game is still No. 2. But the power and pageantry of college football is grabbing younger consumers. Numbers are trending in the direction of college football.
In the latest Harris Poll, 16% of adults cited baseball as their favorite sport, compared to 11% for college football. Baseball’s actually up three points from last year, when the two sports were tied at 13% while college football dropped two points. But since Harris started tracking America’s favorite sports in 1985, college football has gained 1%, while baseball has gone down 7%.
Here’s the kicker in my eyes.
College football was most popular with the 18-to-24-year-old demo and Southerners, according to Harris. Baseball was most popular with 50-to-64-year-olds and Midwesterners. The online poll was conducted from Dec. 12-18, 2012.
I can speak from first-hand experience. My two teenage boys devour college football. They can’t wait to watch tonight’s game. When we came home from our winter vacation, they promptly parked themselves on the couch and watched all the bowl games they recorded on the DVR. It made this father proud.
While they like the Cubs and White Sox, they barely tuned in for baseball’s postseason. Game 3 of the World Series was played on a Saturday night. They could care less. All the boys wanted to watch were games involving Notre Dame and Michigan that night. The same holds true for their friends. Baseball barely registers compared to the NFL and college football.
Clearly, the Harris poll shows that baseball’s popularity skews toward the older crowd. And not to push anyone out the door, let alone myself, but once the older generation moves on, the game is going to suffer if it can’t reach the younger fans like my kids.
Poll numbers only tell part of the story. In my house, and I’m sure in many others, college football already has overtaken baseball.
Note: I’m going to be out for a couple of weeks. However, I’m leaving behind some gifts for the holidays: The best of my Q/As. I’ll feature a new one each day through Jan. 2. Please check in.
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Posted on July 9
Tim McCarver gave me my one and likely only mention during a national telecast of a World Series game. He credited me for a line in the Chicago Tribune during the 1987 Minnesota-St. Louis series on ABC.
I wrote that the teflon roof of the ugly Metrodome “looks like your grandmother’s old jello mold.”
“I remember that line,” said McCarver 25 years later when I reminded him of it.
Whether he did or not, it was quite a thrill for a young reporter to get some exposure on national TV.
Fortunately for McCarver, he has had much better material to work with through the years. It’s been quite a run for the former St. Louis and Philadelphia catcher, who decided to give broadcasting a try in 1980.
The pinnacle comes next week when McCarver will be honored in Cooperstown. He is the 2012 recipient of the Ford C. Frick Award presented by The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum for excellence in baseball broadcasting. McCarver only is the second primary television analyst to win the Frick Award, joining Tony Kubek, who received the honor in 2009.
The honor is long overdue. His numbers during a 32-year broadcast career are almost Gretzky-like. Tuesday, he will work his 21st All-Star Game. The next closest are Joe Buck and Curt Gowdy with 14. In October, he will be on the call for his 23rd World Series.
McCarver had a notable 16-year stint working games for the Mets. He has the distinction of being the only MLB analyst to have worked for all four major broadcast networks. Since 1996, he and Joe Buck have been a team at Fox.
Now 70, McCarver remains trim and enthusiastic about his job. Yet with one more year remaining on his contract, he knows he might have a decision to make about his broadcast future after the 2013 season.
I met with McCarver on a Friday morning while he was in town to call a Cubs-Boston game at Wrigley Field. Here’s the first part of our Q/A.
How do you feel about getting this award?
If somebody told me back in 1980 that I would have a 32-year career, and that I’d be receiving this honor, I’d say no way. For three years, I couldn’t even break into the Phillies broadcast booth. I was just hoping to make it, much less be mentioned as a Ford Frick winner. Believe me, when I started out, this award wasn’t even close to being on the radar.
How do you think you’ll feel being up on the stage in Cooperstown?
I’ve only been to Cooperstown once when Steve Carlton was inducted. I suppose it’s a very personal summation of your professional life. It makes me proud of what I’ve accomplished. That’s what makes this award so fulfilling.
How have you viewed your role as an analyst?
I had no training to be a broadcaster. My training came from being behind the plate. When you come to think about it, that’s a good way to be trained.
You see the choreography of the game from behind the plate. Without realizing it, you’re storing up all this information.
You’re looking at all the positions on the field. You see what the shortstop is doing. You see the second baseman cheating in for a doubleplay. So it all gives you an advantage.
Your timing was good. The baseball broadcast in the 80s evolved into putting more emphasis on analysis.
My job was different than the great voices of the game. My job was to explain the how and why. Whenever I’ve gotten into trouble, it’s because I’ve gotten away from explaining the how and why.
People watching on TV can see how something happened during a game. Fortunately, whether they realized it or not, they wanted to know the how and why it happened. I was in a position to explain the game as I saw it, and I saw it differently than a lot of people.
Early on, you had a reputation for being extremely candid, perhaps more so than what was the norm back then. How did players react to you?
Remember, I had played with a lot of the guys. One night, I did a Phillies game and Mike Schmidt hit a ball off the top of the wall. He always hustled, but he watched the ball and got a double. I said, ‘Schmidt should be on third base.’ Then I said, ‘Often, hitters are like artists. They step back and admire their work. They don’t run as hard. It’s understandable why he’s on second, but he really should be on third.’
Mike and I are close friends. The next day, he was acting cool towards me. Common sense says you should deal with it right away. I said, ‘Schmidty, is everything OK?’ He said, ‘No, it’s not. Don’t ever on the air say I didn’t hustle.’ That’s what his father told him I said.
I said, ‘I didn’t say that.’ I explained to him what I said and we were fine.
In New York, I guess I got this reputation (for being overly candid). Listen, I played with a lot of guys who were very direct and honest. Bob Gibson, Bill White, Curt Flood. They said what they felt. I learned it from them. I always approached playing the game in a candid way. I guess it carried over into broadcasting.
Some players may be upset with me from time to time, but overall, nobody can question my fairness. I have no regrets in the way I approached things back then and the way I approach things today.
You have your own critics. Some people say you talk too much and overanalyze.
Did I talk too much (when he first started)? Absolutely. I talked too much because of my enthusiasm for the game. That was applicable back in 1985, but then it followed me into the 90s. (By then), it wasn’t true. I learned. Of course, I did. You’re always trying to improve yourself. You’re talking about your business. You’re talking about the way you do your job.
How do you feel about the critics?
Whenever you hear the term human nature, it’s always for something negative. Nobody will ever say, ‘He’s a great guy, but that’s human nature.’ What is it about we humans that we tend to use that term negatively?
I try not to get caught up in it. I don’t read the blogs. I’ve got a job to do. I don’t pay attention to the negative stuff.
Do you remember your first game?
In 1980, my first year (as a broadcaster with the Phillies) I did an inning in spring training. I went to Richie Ashburn for some some advice. He said, ‘You know, the best advice I can give you is, ‘If you don’t have anything to say, don’t say it.’
I said, ‘Is that all you have for me?’
Richie said, ‘Come to think of it, yeah.’
That’s how I got started in broadcasting.
How did you hook up with the Mets?
In ’82, the Mets called me. They wanted me to work with Ralph Kiner. I was interested, but my kids were in school and we didn’t want to move. The Mets called again after the ’82 season. By that time, (Phillies exec) Bill Giles said, ‘We’ll keep you, but we really don’t need you.’
I said, ‘I get it.’ It was time to make the move to New York.
You were with the Mets for 16 years. What was it like to work with Ralph Kiner?
Ralph and I clicked right away. Neither one of us had a lot of play-by-play experience. With our styles, it ended with me doing the bulk of the play-by-play.
The Mets teams were extraordinary. The Mets owned New York. The Yankees weren’t even on the radar until 1995. We had a lot of fun.
Ralph’s non-sequiturs were part of his charm. Gary Cohen always said, ‘He’s so comfortable in his own skin.’ That’s as accurately as you can put it.
He used to call me Jim McCarthy. One time, he said, ‘Now I turn over the play-by-play to my good friend, Ken MacArthur.’ The Mets were getting blown out that night.
I said, ‘Earlier in the evening, you referred to me as Ken MacArthur. ‘You must have been thinking of Gen. Douglas MacArthur. One of his lines was, ‘Chance favors a prepared man.’ The Mets obviously weren’t prepared tonight.’
Without missing a beat, Ralph said, ‘MacArthur also said, ‘I shall return, and so will we after this break.’ It was brilliant.
In 1985, you did your first World Series for ABC. What do you remember from that experience?
We worked the second game of the World Series in 1985. Al Michaels said to me, ‘Is it tougher to play in a World Series than announce in one?’
I said, ‘Are you kidding? Announcing is tougher. You can’t do anything about the outcome. When you’re playing, you can do something about the outcome.’
I felt it was tougher back then, and you know what, I still feel that way today.
You’ve said Michaels had a big influence on you. How so?
He taught me more about the business than any announcer I ever worked with.
I learned television from Al. I learned how to take my time, to take a step back. I learned appropriateness. If you listen to Al, his appropriateness with his remarks is incredible.
What was it like to work with Jack Buck?
He was the voice of a franchise for 48 years. Think about that. His presence was something else. Reggie Jackson used to say (Yankee Stadium public address announcer Bob Sheppard) was ‘The voice of God.’ Believe me, I’ve worked with a few voices of God in baseball, and Jack was one of them.
Then a few later, you work with his son Joe. How would you describe your relationship with him?
I knew from our first telecast Joe and I would hit it off. It’s amazing how close you become when you’re under the pressure of calling a World Series or an All-Star game. Joe found that out later.
When Kirby Puckett hit the homer (to win Game 6 of the 1991 World Series), Jack said, ‘We’ll see you tomorrow night.’ Then to be with his son 20 years later, and David Freese hits a homer in Game 6 and Joe said, ‘We’ll see you tomorrow night.”…To sit next to father and son (and hear those lines). You talk about serendipitous. Wow.
How much longer do you want to work?
I don’t have an answer to that. My contract runs through next year. I don’t know. Like anyone else, your health is paramount. I hope I’m clear enough to say, ‘I’ve had enough. This is it.’ I’m good at that. I’ll know.
You’ve been in baseball since breaking into the big leagues in 1959. After all these years, how do you view yourself: As a player or a broadcaster?
I severed that relationship (of being a player) a long time ago, the minute I entered the booth. I didn’t intentionally do it, but I did it. I realized it was a different job. I had to take on a different intensity.
I’ve been extremely lucky. I don’t take any of this for granted.
How much has the game changed?
It’s changed a bit. The players make a lot more money. But the player really hasn’t changed. He still wants to get a hit and win the game. It’s still the same.