Losing Vin Scully

I had wanted to get a trade deadline wrap-up out to you last night, but two things happened. First, I decided to go on a walk. It was a beautiful day here in the Pacific Northwest and, after a week of 100+ degree temperatures and a day of staring at the computer watching for updates and tweeting about deadline trades, I thought it best to go outside and stretch my legs. There’s a park called Mount Tabor here in Portland that I like to walk to. It’s a few miles from my house, but it’s beautiful and it’s high up so you get a good view of the city, the Willamette River, and the West Hills beyond.

Photo by Adam Blank on Unsplash

So I walked up there and that’s when I heard about Vin Scully.

Vin Scully was the voice of baseball. He had an uncanny ability to find the perfect words for any moment, no matter how big or how small. He was the consummate storyteller. Kindness permeated his broadcasts. His listeners were his friends, and we were his. When he invited us to pull up a chair, he meant it.

There were many times when I would tune into a Dodgers game simply to hear him call the action, to hear his stories, just to hear the sound of his voice on in the background. In 2013 I heard him say this during a broadcast.

Matthew Kory @mattymatty2000

"When I was growing up, Washington Heights was 95% Jewish, mostly Jewish refuges escaping Hitler. Barmes, a strike, 0-1." - Vin Scully

There is only one broadcaster who could weave stories of his youth, World War II, and New York City history, and still manage to follow the action of the game. I’ll let you figure out who that was.

Scully’s passing yesterday at the age of 94 was a surprise, even if maybe it shouldn’t have been. But expected or not, baseball has lost its voice.

Once a person goes it’s natural to take stock. I’ll never be Vin Scully. Nobody will. But am I living up to being myself? Am I taking time for others, treating people as they should be treated, loving my loved ones enough? Am I noticing and appreciating the moments of my life, big and small, enough? Life is a precious gift and it’s my obligation to honor those that went before me by not forgetting that in my thoughts and actions. Remembering that and acting on it, even be it in small ways, is the way I’m choosing to remember our friend Vin.

I have two small Vin Scully memories to share.

The first is from 2015 when I was a writer at FanGraphs. I decided to write a piece on Scully. I don’t remember what the genesis of the idea was, but it was called Appreciating Vin Scully Appreciating Clayton Kershaw. The idea was to go back and really listen to Scully’s calls of a Kershaw start. To focus not on the game, but on Scully himself and his expert use of language and storytelling. It was a nice way to spend an afternoon. Somehow it’s still up at FanGraphs. You can read it here if you like.

Secondly there’s the time I… well, I didn’t meet Vin Scully, but I walked past him. I was at Dodger Stadium to cover the NHL’s outdoor Stadium Series game between the LA Kings and the Anaheim Ducks back in 2014. There hadn’t been a hockey game outside in LA before and that notable fact somehow helped convince my editor (the wonderful Emma Span) to agree to send me to cover the game in person. It’s still the only time I’ve ever covered a game live. It was so much fun!

The famous Dodger Stadium mound, or at least most of it. (photo by Matthew Kory)

I arrived as early as I could and, with my press credential, walked all over Dodger Stadium. I stood by the mound, I went into the locker rooms and all around the place. Better take advantage of it, because when would I ever get to do this again, right? (Answer: Never.) I walked through the tunnel behind home plate (you can sort of see the entrance to it in the photo above) and admired the trophies in a display case that spanned the length of the hallway. At the end of the hallway is an elevator up to the press box area. I pushed the button and when the door opened there was Vin Scully.

I wasn’t ready for that. Scully was there to introduce the game, (you can see him do it in this 40 second YouTube video here) as an ambassador of Los Angeles and Dodger Stadium. I was deep in thought about the trophies, what they meant, who had held them, what they had seen when the elevator doors opened and did not expect to see the great Vin Scully standing there. I wish I’d shaken his hand warmly and told him what he meant to me, what he meant to millions, but in that moment all I could muster was a smile and a, “Hello.” Scully smiled back at me and said, “Hello” in return. In retrospect I’m shocked I was able to say anything. I got on the elevator just as I had planned to and watched Scully walk down the hallway in the other direction as the doors closed.

Just that for a moment I stood facing greatness. And I knew it at the time.

Baseball has lost a giant. Rest in peace, Vin Scully. You are loved and you will be remembered. That’s as much as anyone could ever ask for.

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I’ll have a Red Sox trade deadline wrap-up for you either later today or tomorrow. If you haven’t subscribed yet, it’s free. Just click the button. Thanks for reading.