Maybe it’s time for some good news. On the morning when 100 million of us are likely to watch the presidential debates tonight—in this most bizarre of political seasons, in this most fractured nation of ours—here’s the kind of good news we long to hear. Yesterday, one humble, gracious man, Vin Scully, who after 67 years as the announcer for the Los Angeles Dodgers, at the age of 89, occupied the broadcast booth for the last time. “I will miss you,” he said, characteristically shifting the focus from himself.
He was appropriately lionized yesterday. The papers are full of glowing tributes this morning. All kinds of people were recalling a story of Vin Scully coming into their homes. I listened to Scully as a child in Phoenix. Phoenix was home of the farm team for the arch rival San Francisco Giants. On sultry summer evenings, I was elated to watch the likes of Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, and Juan Marichal, before they became towering figures of the game. But on Saturday afternoons, I also listened to the Dodger’s broadcasts, and there was Vin Scully, that not-too-excitable, always-calm voice, yet always bringing the verve and the drama of up-to-the-minute baseball into our lives.
The Dodgers won the National League West Division yesterday, but not until the bottom of the tenth inning. It all unfolded suddenly with a home run by a journeyman infielder, Charlie Culberson, not used to hitting home runs. It was a perfect finish to Scully’s illustrious career. In his matter-of-fact voice he called the play—“oh-and-one to Charlie . . . swung on and a high drive to deep left field”—and then the drama, always the drama with Scully—“the Dodger bench empties, would you believe a home run?” He often went silent in these dramatic moments, often for long stretches. In typical fashion, he refused to insert himself, when the actual play, he felt, was better than his voice.
But then came the finishing touches yesterday. The players, dancing and leaping on the field, suddenly turned to Scully’s booth and tipped their hats for an appreciative good-bye. Scully took up the microphone for one last time and told the fans, especially the fans, and the players, that they were the wind beneath his wings. And then they played a recording—all of this Hollywood signature stuff—a recording he made for his wife twenty-five years ago. The voice was his, with orchestral background, the tune “The Wind Beneath My Wings”: “So I was the one with the glory, while you were the one with all the strength.” The cameras caught women crying all over the stadium. I had tears in my eyes. Maybe a bit of schmaltz, to be sure, but genuine and appropriate from such a humble man. It was a final gesture to his team, his community, the sport he loved, his wife, and, yes, in deep gratitude to God for the gift of the life and work and people he loved. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
In an age when overcharged egos occupy about every stage within sight; in a time when neither we nor our institutions are loyal; in a time when our egos divide marriages, communities, our nation—here was a tribute to a different sort of man. He loved his work with all his heart. He did it with consummate skill and beauty. He was loyal to the game and to the organization he served. Through it all he considered himself a husband, father, grandfather. Most of all, he said, he wanted simply to be an honorable man. Through it all there was that signature humility, always giving credit elsewhere, consistently expressing gratitude, so often dipping into the poignant moments of human decency.
Even yesterday, as he cooed over a sleeping baby in the arms of her dad; even as he seamlessly weaved one of his famous stories in-between pitches without skipping a beat; even then as he talked about the lives of the players, their families, their deeper convictions, their work-ethic—he was, yes, the teacher, the encourager, the reconciler. Vince Scully attended mass before every game with the players and the groundskeepers. Here lies the source of his humility. This faithfulness brought to his work a much larger context. He was a man called to a higher purpose through his work. May God give each one of us, no matter our stage in life, such a calling, such a posture in life, such humility.
And so as we watch the jarring theatrics of the debates tonight, maybe it’s worth thinking about Vin Scully. It can be different, we want to remind ourselves. Our lives can participate in genuine goodness. Would that our leaders would call us to our better selves, but if that’s not to be for this season, it’s worth watching carefully the lives of the Vin Scully’s of our world to discover there a better way.
Thanks, Phil! Yes, we must keep our thoughts on the Vin Scully’s, especially during this discouraging political process…RW
Thanks Phil. A great read to end the week of, as you say, this “bizarre political season”. Coincidentally also when I spoke at the Boston Glastonbury Monastery to 75 “Vin Scully”-type social justice (and Red Sox faithful) on the glories and challenges of the Bill of Rights First Amendment. Going to Mass before we were reminded of Arch Angels who illustrate for us that we all are the Presence of the healing Spirit in this broken world. Do you know NYU President John Sexton’s wonderful book “Baseball a Road to God”? Dodger’s are central to the story he tells from the perspectives like us who enjoyed the Phoenix “minor” league baseball of those long ago summers with Uncle Tommy and metaphoric major league baseball since.. With a grateful heart, tg
Phil, thank you! And thank you for drawing attention to his faith that centered his character. Some of my best childhood and teen memories are of listening to my little transistor radio with Vin Scully calling the games. Wally Moon, Maury Wills, Sandy Koufax and so many more. Vin painted wonderful pictures and even though I have been away from Southern California for over thirty years I still bleed Dodger Blue.
Beautiful touch Phil.
Thanks for sending this good news to all your readers. Having heard Vin Scully off-and-on all of my life, your description of his last “call” of the game brought back many memories. As a boy, I grew up in the Central Valley of California, and our team was the San Francisco Giants. But, I always enjoyed listening to Scully call a game even if it was for the Los Angeles Dodgers. He was simply the best at what he did. I’m not sure if he will ever read your blog, but I doubt he will find a more sincere and meaningful tribute than yours.
Wonderful, Phil! Years before I rallied ’round the Red Sox, I was lured to the stands by family in New York who loved the Brooklyn Dodgers and by my Daddy who loved the Cubs. Vin Scully deserves all the kudos that come his way. Remarkable man, especially in a culture that needs reminders that “it’s not all about me.” Vin Scully will be missed for more than his broadcasting gifts. He was a good man. Timely blog preceding tonight’s debate. Thanks, Phil.
Beautiful piece, Phil. For any of us who ‘grew up’ on Dodger baseball, Vin Scully will always reign supreme as the icon of the broadcasting profession. Thanks for your perceptive description of this good man….LG