Dear Vin

Vin Scully
c/o Los Angeles Dodgers
1000 Vin Scully Ave.
Los Angeles, CA

Dear Vin:

I hope it's a very pleasant day wherever you may be.

I saw in my memories on social media (what you probably call, "The Facebook") that it was four years ago today that you suspected 2016 would be your last year.

We're heading into the tail end of our third year without you behind the microphone for the Dodgers, and baseball misses you desperately.

Oh, it's not your problem to save our great game. That goes up to people who are more "heck bent" on destroying it. Not that you'd ever say that.

No, I feel like we need your grace in a booth somewhere. The Dodgers are doing just fine, with Joe Davis doing a marvelous job. He's been a breath of fresh air, and we get to hear him around the country doing national games as well.

But your spirit is missing. Many try to be you or emulate you, but there's only one you.

I know better, mind you. I learned the lessons that Red Barber taught you and you passed on to the many in the School of Scully.

"Be yourself," Red told you. I've tried to be, and goodness knows that's what I am. I try to honor you, but I probably get too excited and too loud. I'm nowhere near the poet that you are.

So, in conclusion, I'm me.

But we need you somehow.

I know you won't call anything that you're offered because you wouldn't feel prepared (ugh, that word) and you wouldn't want to show anyone up. But good grief, Vin, you'd be the best broadcaster in sports as soon as you stepped into any booth.

There's too much bad in the booth these days. Sure, Joe Davis is great, and there are plenty of others who are simply OK but think back to a time when you and Red and Mel Allen and Ernie Harwell and Al Helfer and Curt Gowdy and Bob Prince and Harry Caray were all active. That's around, say, 1960 or so, right?

And I'm just throwing a handful of baseball names out there. There are so many others.

Look, I don't want to get into naming names, but we have a ton of games on now with completely substandard "me first" types. I know those have existed for years, but I feel like there's an epidemic of hyperbolic GARGANTUAN broadcasters.

You always said you don't watch (or listen to) other announcers, and you'd never criticize them anyway, but I can't help to wonder what you think these days. Here's a sample of what's going on:

- Fake voices are in play. A lot.
- The aforementioned hyperbole.
- Out of control egos on kids who have accomplished very little.
- Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.
- Inaccuracy.
- Less storytelling and more statistics.

Everybody seems to have a catchphrase. I think there's one guy who says, "My oh my! Watch it fly!" after every home run. Another guy has to do his wacky comparisons.

"That batter is hotter than the skillet I mistakenly put my hand on while I was home in my studio apartment." Or something like that.

I know Mel said, "Going going GONE!" but he was original. This stuff isn't.

Santa Maria, Vin, but it's exhausting. There's an awful entitlement these days, especially from students who assume everything is on a platter for them.

You didn't have parents that got you everything. There was no fancy broadcasting school.

As you know, when you left Fordham, after helping start WFUV, you spent a summer at WTOP in Washington (and a nice gig that must have been), but nothing was handed to you. Your talent got you that first (and, really, only) opportunity with Red Barber.

Within a few years, you were the best in the business and, soon, the best ever.

But you did it all with grace and eloquence. Oh, I know there were moments of ego, such as how furious you must have been at not getting the Super Bowl job that went to Pat Summerall on CBS. But their loss was OUR gain since you moved to NBC and further cemented your legacy.

It's not all bad, of course, but it's certainly frustrating. More than ever, I mute the games that I watch. You see, like you, I'm different in that the broadcaster impacts the game for me. So in a lot of cases, I don't watch or hit the mute button.

By doing so, it keeps me from becoming the huge broadcasting stickler and critic that I am. I suppose I'm more like Red in that regard. My goodness, he really didn't like Russ Hodges' "Giants win the pennant" call.

Oh, how I'd love to pick your brain about Red and a hundred other topics. While I'm not you and do try to be you, I look to honor you and the others who have impacted me.

I wish that same impact could be felt more consistently around our wonderful business.

Of course, you should be enjoying life away from baseball with your wonderful family. I'm happy for you.

But, like millions, I miss hearing you. We're so fortunate to have the large collection of audio and video that is available to us.

I know you can't come back, and you shouldn't. But I wanted you to know that you're missed and that the lessons you taught me won't be forgotten.

I try to teach them to my students.

I wish others would do the same.

My best to you, your wife, and your family.

Best wishes,
Rob