“Hi, everybody, and a very pleasant good evening to you, wherever you may be.”
And so began a ritual that has lasted 67 years, Vincent Edward “Vin” Scully, America’s best friend (according to Tom Verducci in Sports Illustrated), as he once again announced the play-by-play action of another Los Angeles Dodgers baseball game.
Over the course of my life, I’ve had several chance encounters with famous people—Bill Russell (a great Boston Celtic player), Jim Brown (the legendary fullback for the Cleveland Browns), and Orson Wells (the acclaimed film director), all three of whom were gracious and appreciative of an admiring fan—but the person with celebrity status and achievement that left the most indelible impression on me is not an athlete or filmmaker—he’s Vin Scully, the iconic broadcaster for the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers.
When I was a grad student I had two summer jobs: driving a Coca Cola delivery truck, and working as an usher at Dodger Stadium—the latter job began in April. My first assignment was collecting tickets at the top deck behind home plate. My fellow ushers, the long-timers, called them the “nose bleed” seats. A week or two into ushering my first summer I was asked to take over collecting tickets on the Club Level outside Chairman Peter O’Malley’s box, the one along the third baseline and next to the broadcast booth. Access to these expensive seats, the priciest in the stadium, could be by stairs, escalator or elevator.
That first summer, one of the few times I used the elevator I entered it and was greeted by Vin Scully, who was heading to the broadcast booth to do his pre-game work. “My name is Vin Scully,” he said, “and you are?” After I introduced myself, he asked me if I liked working at Dodger Stadium, and then wondered what I did apart from ushering. I told him that I was working toward my doctorate in psychology.
“Good for you,” he said approvingly, “and are you enjoying it?”
I answered yes, I was, and then it was time for us to exit the elevator and head to our respective work assignments.
I watched and listened to his broadcasts with a new familiarity, continued my graduate studies, and enjoyed working at Dodger Stadium during baseball season. It would be two years before our paths would cross again, in the elevator as before, and that occurred during a mid-week game when I was hurrying to the Club Level. I was oblivious of those around me as we ascended from floor to floor. But as I exited on the level of the Chairman’s box I heard the familiar voice—“Roger, how are the studies coming?”
I turned to be greeted by the smile I remembered and had seen many times on TV. I shook his outstretched hand while passersby whispered and pointed in his direction. “I’m doing well,” I said.
“Psychology is a great field of study,” he said, “I’m glad for you.”
I’ve not seen him since, but every time I hear him say, “Pull up a chair…” to his audience I feel that he’s talking to me. He is eighty-eight and retiring after this season. There have been and will be many more deserved tributes to this remarkable, self-effacing man who made millions of people feel as if they had pulled up a chair and were sitting next to him at the ballpark. He has said he will miss the crowd, and I don’t for a second believe that’s because of the people’s adoration, but rather because he enjoys being invited into each of their lives.
That too is my privilege as a clinical psychologist. “Thank you, Mr. Scully for years of making us, your listeners, feel special, and teaching a grad student a simple but lasting lesson.”
by 
That sweet summer sound of Vinnie calling the Dodger games on the radio was a staple in our house when I was growing up. He was good company for my father when he became bedridden after a stroke years later. We are still listening and watching him announce the games in high definition. It will be a tough act to fallow when he retires at the end of this season. It just won’t seem the same.
Oops, I meant follow. Strike one.
Bette,
You have two more to go, and we could make a case for fallow–the broadcast booth will certainly be “idle” during the next [baseball] season without Mr. Scully!
Roger, and thanks for your coment–oops, I meant comment–aren’t mistakes easily come by?
Bette,
I like your reference to “good company.” He’s a big part of any broadcast, but always allowing the game to be center stage. Yes, he’ll be missed, but are we not fortunate to have been in his company?
Thanks for reading and commenting,
Roger
Truly great baseball announces make the game magical. I hadn’t realized that you had met him. I remember with glee the games we went to at Dodger Stadium. My friends are still surprised that my favorite games are pitcher duels. That is a lovely tribute.
Giny,
There is suspense when pitchers pitch well, baffling hitters, and then announcers, as Scully has done throughout his career, let the suspense build without filling silence with commentary. Just as pitchers who are “on” as they “paint” the outer edges of the strike zone and alter speeds so to does Scully paint with words–amazing. Pitching duels are great!
Thanks,
Roger
Doc
That was a perfect discription of the man. So Pull up a chair and enjoy if you get the Dodgers. gary
Gary,
Thank you for reading and commenting on this piece about the man whose broadcasts we’ve heard together many times–at Chavez Ravine, in front of a TV, and with the appropriate libations to accompany his great descriptions. With the Cubs in mind I have purchased the MLB package, but when the Dodgers are home, and the hour’s not too late I will listen to Mr. Scully make Dodger baseball, any baseball, come alive with the fewest well chosen words.
Roger
What a great story. How fortunate you were to meet this great man when you did. He obviously made a lasting impression. I liked how he introduced himself to you: “My name is Vin Scully,” he said, “and you are?” He does not assume people know who he is, even as famous as he is. I was so impressed that he remembered you and the brief conversation after two years. That must have made you feel like a million bucks!
Hi Jo Anne,
Thanks for your comment. At the time, dressed in my pork-pie hat and blue blazer Dodger usher uniform, I didn’t think it was a big deal–nice, yes–but since I’ve often thought of how those brief exchanges reflect upon the man he has always been–everyone matters to him. He doesn’t know the names of the thousands in the stands who listen to his broadcast while watching the game, or the millions tuned in to their television sets, but each of them feels as if he’s talking with them.
Roger
I’m not into baseball but you don’t have to love baseball to appreciate this wonderful and heartfelt description of meeting this remarkable man. What a great tribute, Roger. And what a talented writer you are. I’m so looking fwd. to reading more of your blog posts. Sorry it’s taken me so long….
Pat,
Thank you for your kind words–Vin Scully is all that the tributes say about him. He was born in the Bronx, NY Yankee territory, and became the voice of the Brooklyn and L.A. Dodgers. I was born in Brooklyn and became a Chicago Cub fan–much to my Yankees loving father’s dismay. We are strange and wonderful creatures. I look forward to meeting you in September in D.C. when Herta brings her book to the world.
Roger
His voice is mellifluous. His words are poignant. His pauses punctuate. Simply listening can help one picture the action on the field. Your words describe his graciousness. Perhaps he would enjoy hearing from you. Too often we miss affirming people when we can. I lament some missed opportunities.
Enjoying and appreciating your words.
Alan,
Thank you for your comments. You and I have heard his voice, and been enthralled by his play-by-play on many occasions while attending or listening from afar to Dodger games. I will get in touch with him. I agree that we often say “I’ll do it tomorrow,” and then that tomorrow never materializes the way we envisioned. Thank you for enjoying and appreciating these words my beloved friend of fifty (you’ve got to be kidding!) years.
Roger
I agree with you that too often, we miss affirming people. It’s so nice when we remember, and equally nice to be on the receiving end. Both parties feel good!
What fun and good fortune you had in crossing paths with this icon of sportscasting, and the opportunity for a couple of brief exchanges, which gave you a glimpse of his genuine humanity. Good that you can count and acknowledge such blessings. May you enjoy yet another season of baseball’s pleasures, as you reflect and write about all of life’s cycles, and the simple joys of chance encounters with other engaged souls, be they famous or not.
Colette,
Vin Scully recently made a comment on socialism–maybe forty seconds long. I only saw the video and not the context in which he was prompted to speak, but I’m guessing it had to do with Venezuelan poverty, suppression of freedoms, and centralization of power in the few–and all in less than a minute. Even this statement was cloaked in typical “Scully-gentleness.”
Roger