I grew up on baseball and the Phillies during a time when By Saam and Bill Campbell were doing play-by-play on the radio. But I hit my stride later with the broadcast team of Richie Ashburn, Andy Musser and Harry Kalas. Baseball is a game of emotions so it is not surprising that we form a type of relationship - an emotional tie - with those that bring the game to us. And more so than the other announcers, I felt connected to Harry Kalas.I will remember Harry in many ways but one that stands out occurred in August of 1993. I was heading to the West Coast for business and was able to work in a Phillies game in Colorado. It was on a warm, sunny, summer afternoon that I watched the final game of a 3 game series between the Phillies and Colorado Rockies at Mile High Stadium. The Phillies, who would go on to the World Series that year, were a powerful team. The Rockies on the other hand were an expansion team that struggled to only 67 wins, including 17 in September.
The Phillies won the first 2 games of the series handily and I was primed for a sweep -- but instead, I watched a painful loss. The Phillies started hot and had total control of the game, seeming to toy with the Rockies through the early innings. But as it often turns out in baseball, leaving too many runners on base and squandering opportunities comes back to bite you. For in the late innings, the Rockies rallied from a 0-5 deficit to win 6-5, leaving at least one out of town fan feeling lost and in need of explanation. The Phillies had broken my heart many times before, but watching a disaster like that when you are out of town and alone, takes it to a different level of disturbance. I know, it's only a game, but as a sports fan, we let it become more than a sport.
As I was leaving, I walked around the stands and past the broadcast booth. There was Harry, about 30 rows and another level up, staring out on the field. He looked like he was looking for answers too. As I walked within his field of view, I took off my Phillies cap and held it up towards him to get his attention. He looked at me and we made eye contact. I gave a lingering shrug, trying to say, "what happened?". He responded in a similar way letting me know that sometimes, there are no answers -- and letting me feel connected to him for a moment and comforted, that we are 2 fans away from home who felt the same way.
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I admit that I haven't been the most steady of baseball fans. I, like many others, stopped following the sport when life and other interests take over (though I also point to the baseball strike as another reason I stopped watching). When I did rejoin the sport (what a year to come back!), I was relieved that Harry Kalas was still there. He has been the consistent voice of many childhood memories. I will miss him. Thanks for sharing your story.
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