Welcome to Heaven, Vin Scully
Everyone has a Vin Scully story. The voice of Dodger baseball was our grandpa, father, uncle, friend. When he asked you to pull up a chair, you were happy to stay a while. Then, he'd tell you some amazing stories about life.
Between stories, Vinny talked baseball. He told us about every pitch, every play, every player. He knew more about the opposing team's bullpen catcher than the catcher knew about himself. No detail was too small.
He treated everyone the same way, with respect and kindness, from Hall of Famers to the stadium usher. His scorebook became an epic journey. One batter, he was Homer. The next, he was Mark Twain or James Joyce or John Steinbeck. Vin had a command of language that made Walt Whitman mortal. He was in the league of Faulkner, Hemingway and old Will Shakespeare.
But Vin wasn't bringing your average dulcet tones. This was Enrico Caruso with the kind of pipes that hit cleanup. Only Vin Scully was Murderer's Row all by himself. He painted pictures with words the way Sandy Koufax painted corners with fastballs. We couldn't wait to lend an ear. If we had to go before the story was over, we would get out our transistor radio or listen in the car. Even when we could see and hear for ourselves, Vinny still was our eyes and ears. We didn't want to miss a word.
Forget play-by-play. Vin Scully was calling literature and creating poetry, turning the game into gospel for 67 seasons in the broadcast booth with the Los Angeles Dodgers.
Vin Scully Went to Fordham and Did Not Have a Lot of Job Offers Out of College
Vincent Edward Scully was born in the Bronx, New York, on Nov. 29, 1927. Growing up in the Washington Heights part of Manhattan, he developed a love for baseball when he was a kid and was a New York Giants fan before they moved to San Francisco. After high school, Scully served two years in the U.S. Navy before attending Fordham University.
Legendary sports broadcaster Red Barber discovered Scully out of Fordham. There, he majored in English, started the school's FM radio station (WFUV), and honed his skills calling baseball, football and basketball games. In his spare time, Vin was a sports editor for the school paper, sang in a barbershop quartet and played center field for the baseball team. After college, not too many people thought he was good enough for a broadcasting job, and he didn't have a lot of job offers.
He got his big break in 1949 when Barber asked him to call a college football game for CBS Radio at Fenway Park. The game between Maryland and Boston University was on a cold November day in Boston. Scully thought he would be inside a booth and left his coat and gloves at the hotel. He ended up calling the game outside from the stadium roof. He didn't mention the weather (or his discomfort) on the air. This toughness impressed Barber, who took the young kid from New York under his wing.
A few months later, Scully joined Barber and Connie Desmond in the Brooklyn Dodgers television and radio booth at the age of 22, after Ernie Harwell left for the New York Giants. Three years later, Scully was calling the 1953 World Series at 25 (still the youngest ever to call a Fall Classic). By 1954, he was the main Dodgers broadcaster with Desmond (1954–56), André Baruch (1954–55), Al Helfer (1955–57), and Jerry Doggett (1957).
When the Dodgers left Brooklyn and headed West after the 1957 season, Scully joined them. He married Joan Crawford in 1958. Over the next 60 years, he became the heartbeat of Los Angeles and a trusted friend for Angelenos.
He Cared More About the Human Side of Sports Than Anything Else
Scully was so good that he called other sports besides baseball. Did you know he called the 1981 NFC championship game between the San Francisco 49ers and Dallas Cowboys when Dwight Clark made "The Catch" from Joe Montana? Scully also called games for other teams besides the Dodgers, like NBC's game of the week, and three World Series, including the roller through Bill Buckner's legs in 1986 and Kirk Gibson's iconic home run in 1988.
He called them all with class. Even though Vin bled Dodger blue, he never was a homer. He learned how to be impartial in the booth from Red Barber and carried the same "don't whine, don't complain, don't make excuses" attitude to work every day. He always reported what happened without fear or favor. In this regard, he was like another famous Los Angeles broadcaster, Chick Hearn, who called every Lakers game just the way it happened, whether it was good, bad or ugly for the team that signed the check.
Sports fans in Los Angeles were blessed during this era. I was one of them growing up in Los Angeles in the 1980s. We had Vin Scully calling Dodger games, Chick Hearn calling the Lakers, Bob Miller calling hockey games for the Kings, Bill King calling football games for the Raiders and Jim Murray writing about sports for the Los Angeles Times. It doesn't get any better than that.
Like all of them, Scully was a throwback and not all that big on stats, analytics or the sabermetric revolution. They all cared more about the human side of things. While Murray once wrote "Babe Ruth hit about 700 home runs," before a Los Angeles Times editor put the exact number because it "seemed kind of important," Scully believed "statistics are used much like a drunk uses a lamppost: for support, not illumination."
This was the kind of daily wisdom Vin imparted to Dodger fans until his retirement in 2016. At his last game, fittingly against the rival San Francisco Giants, he saved his best for last.
"You know, friends, so many people have wished me congratulations on a 67-year career in baseball, and they’ve wished me a wonderful retirement with my family, and now, all I can do is tell you what I wish for you. May God give you, for every storm, a rainbow; for every tear, a smile; for every care, a promise; and a blessing in each trial. For every problem life seems, a faithful friend to share; for every sigh, a sweet song, and an answer for each prayer. You and I have been friends for a long time, but I know, in my heart, I’ve always needed you more than you’ve ever needed me, and I’ll miss our time together more than I can say. But you know what, there will be a new day, and, eventually, a new year, and when the upcoming winter gives way to spring, ooh, rest assured, once again, it will be time for Dodger baseball. So, this is Vin Scully wishing you a pleasant good afternoon, wherever you may be."
He closed that game with words that seem fitting today: "Don't be sad because it's over. Smile because it happened."
Thanks for the Memories, Happiness and Love
They say if you want to know the measure of a person, simply count their friends. Well, Vin Scully had more friends than anyone. But he never got a big head despite his success. He worked hard and was a humble man of faith who was thankful for everything he had.
A devout Catholic, he lost his first wife, Joan Crawford, from an accidental medical overdose in 1972, after they had been married for 15 years, leaving him with three young children. In late 1973, he married Sandra Hunt, who had two kids, and they had their own child together. They were married for 48 years, before Sandra died in 2021 from ALS.
Years before, in 1994, his oldest son died in a helicopter crash at the age of 33. According to American Magazine, Scully reflected on the tragedy in an interview with The National Catholic Register in 2013.
"When my wife, Joan, died in 1972 at the age of 35, I was devastated, as were our children. We didn’t stop praying, though. The worst thing you can do in times of trial is to stop praying. The tough moments are when you need God the most. He’s always there and more than happy to give us His help. We need only ask for it."
Vin Scully overcame these tragedies and lived a full life. He had four children, two stepchildren, 16 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. He brought a lot of joy to a lot of people with his golden words. He also knew when to be quiet and let the action speak for itself. That is why there was such an outpouring of love for him after his passing at the age of 94 on Aug. 2, 2022. Good friends are hard to find. He felt like family.
"One final trade was made today," said one Facebook commenter. "The owner of Heaven wanted Mr. Vin Scully, and, in exchange, the Los Angeles Dodgers, Major League Baseball, and the world gets a lifetime of his memories, love, and happiness."
Vin Scully could make a grocery list sound poetic, but he was more than just the best baseball broadcaster who ever lived. He was the voice of heaven.
The voice of heaven is telling stories in heaven now. A lot of people are pulling up chairs.
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