The Best Yankees Play-by-Play Voices Ranked

Phil Rizzuto, Mel Allen, Red Barber (Getty Images)

Several months ago, I told you I'd list (in my opinion) the best play-by-play announcers in the history of the New York Yankees.

Some things to know: the Yankees didn't allow day-to-day broadcasts until 1939 over a bizarre concern that radio hurt the gate. The three New York teams of the day (Yankees, Dodgers, Giants) had an agreement on this. The Yankees could be heard on out of town games (there's a 1934 Yankees-Tigers tilt at Navin Field in Detroit that's easy to find online for instance) and, of course, All-Star Games and the Bombers' near-annual appearance in the World Series.

Really, full-time broadcasting kicked in after World War II ended. While Arch McDonald was the initial Yankees broadcaster in 1939, it was his sidekick, Mel Allen, that earned the moniker of "Voice of the Yankees" (and, for my money, still the only broadcaster who should be known as "Voice of.").

Mel. "THE Voice of the Yankees" (Getty Images)

I decided to not rank them all, for a variety of reasons. I'll tell you the bottom for me is Bob Gamere, who spent an uneven 1970 season in The Bronx before being replaced by Bill White; Hawk Harrelson, whose style did not work in his two years in the Bronx but became a legend in Chicago; and, yes, Ryan Ruocco, whose voice grates and, well, just everything doesn't fly with me. I hear he's a great guy. That's nice.

And, to be fair Suzyn Waldman would rank low as a play-by-play announcer because it was never her strong suit. But I stand by her as an analyst and reporter.

But there are also too many who would be difficult to rank. How do you address Curt Gowdy, who spends 1949 and 1950 working next to Allen but doesn't become Curt Gowdy until he moves to Boston? The same can be said about Russ Hodges and Joe Garagiola. From there, we find announcers whose work is unavailable. Find me broadcasts of Connie Desmond, Al Helfer or Art Gleeson, for instance.

So, holy cow and how about that? Let's have a Ballantine blast because This Bud's for you at Miller time! It's our list, driven by Jeep!

1954: Front: Vin Scully, Connie Desmond, Al Helfer Back: Tom Villante, Red Barber, Mel Allen, and Joe Ripley.

Honorable Mention: Vin Scully. Wait. What? The GOAT of GOATs was asked to consider becoming the lead voice in the Bronx in 1965, replacing Mel Allen and reuniting him with his mentor Red Barber. But Vin was firmly settled in Los Angeles by that point so he declined. He almost certainly would have been number one on this list had he said yes.

12) Jim Kaat. I love Kitty, but admittedly a lot of his work is remembered as a top-flight analyst. Still, if you listen to the last out of David Wells' perfect game in 1998, it's Jim Kaat who calls the it on MSG. Old school yet new school, Kitty didn't fear giving opinions and had a perfectly no-nonsense approach. Along with Tony Kubek, Kaat would be high on the list of analysts if I did that one.

11) Jerry Coleman. The Marine pilot finished a steady career as a player and worked his way into the booth in 1963. He had the honor of the exciting call of Mickey Mantle's 500th home run in 1967 before eventually departing and landing in San Diego, where he became an even bigger legend. Steady and passionate, Coleman worked many network radio assignments also. His big phrase was "You can hang a star on that one, baby!" A star hangs below his former booth in San Diego.

10) Ken Singleton. As cool as they come. Kenny established himself as a star broadcaster in Montreal before coming to New York. A New York native, Kenny never uses hyperbole and is a comfortable listen in any role. "Lookout!" he exclaims on a hot shot hit, and "This one is GONE" on home runs, but they never overpower or feel like a cliché. When he first announced he might step down (before being talked out of it), fans began to realize what we'd losing (and what we'd be stuck with).

9) DeWayne Staats. A total pro in a crazy time, Staats worked with the Astros and Cubs before landing in New York in 1990. Stuck there for some of the worst times, he provided class and grace in the booth. I actually saw him at the very first Yankees Fan Fest in 1991 and didn't have the nerve to introduce myself. He stayed through 1994, just as things were getting good, but left us a few good memories, including Jim Abbott's no-hitter in 1993. After a stint with ESPN, he was the voice of the Rays on their first day in 1998 (the the Devil Rays) and has been there ever since.

8) Michael Kay. Look, Kay and I will likely never see eye-to-eye. He likes to talk over big moments versus laying out for crowd noise. He's certainly bombastic to an extent. He never toiled in the minors. But he's also been present for myriad iconic moments. He often comes off a little too much like he's the smartest voice in the room, which doesn't sit well when Gary Cohen is across town. His star could be higher if he were less about Michael Kay (and the Yankees, for that matter). But, at the same time, he'll probably never truly get his due either. Put it this way: I've never turned a game off or muted it because Michael Kay is on the call. I can't say that about others.

1983: Bill White, Bobby Murcer, Phil Rizzuto

7) Bobby Murcer. Go ahead. Call me a fraud. Say I'm biased. But in Bobby Ray, you have the lineage in the booth, from Phil Rizzuto to Murcer to Paul O'Neill (not a play-by-play guy). Everyone likes him. Everyone always found him to be an easy listen. Non-Yankees fans couldn't hate him. He even got a few whiffs on some national stuff (and deserved more). The guy lived baseball, but his Oklahoma drawl was still present. He has more classic calls than you'll ever know (or even I know, for that matter). He's also still as responsible as Scully, Imus, Bradshaw and others for my wanted to be in broadcasting). Lastly, find the moment when Bobby, fighting the cancer that would kill him, returned to Yankee Stadium on Opening Day. See the respect that the team -- the players -- paid him with a standing ovation. I'm crying typing those words.

6) John Sterling. For nearly a decade, I didn't like him. I almost loathed him. With Kay, he formed the most bombastic booth around. The mistakes and the home run calls and the nicknames and, as a Scully guy, it was so anti-broadcasting to me. But I can still hear a former colleague (non-broadcaster). "You don't hear games the way I do," he said. "The way a fan does." I made my peace right there. And, for all of his bluster, check out his calls in big moments when the Yankees lose. Other broadcasters sound like you've killed their dog. John still makes it sound exciting, because he loves it.

5) Frank Messer. The first play-by-play announcer for me. The first one who wasn't a player who I really studied in my youth. The anchor of the classic booth of Bill White, Phil Rizzuto, and Messer. I can still hear him describing the Yankees as "New York" and it taught me that the mascot wasn't always necessary. He taught me early descriptions and how to maintain composure. "Dent is the key man," he said, following that with "Stretch by Torrez. The set, the kick, and the pitch. Hit deep to left field! This one may be off the wall, may be in the screen...Home run!" Messer guided us through pine tar and lots more, as well as being the MC for Old Timer's Day. I still regard him highly.

4) Red Barber. Red's Yankees years are tough for me. In nearly any other list, he'd be two or three at worst. He's fourth here because he's still Red-freaking-Barber. He hand-picked Vin Scully to join him in Brooklyn in 1950. He mentored the greatest sports broadcaster ever. He was brilliant from 1935 to 1953 in Cincinnati, Brooklyn, and nationally. He was, seriously, "Red Bawbah," of "The Catbird Seat." He taught the class of professional calls lacking opinion and rooting and he still brought that to Yankee Stadium in 1954 but it was a huge contrast from Allen. What seemed to be everything in Brooklyn wasn't the same in the Bronx. And, eventually, his own stubborness cost him, when he said: "I don't know what the paid attendance is today, but whatever it is, it is the smallest crowd in the history of Yankee Stadium, and this crowd is the story, not the game." His pushing for WPIX cameras to show the stadium with only 413 people in it led his contract to be cut after 1966. He never called another game.

3) Bill White. It's not that White was that much better than his colleagues of the Day, Messer and Rizzuto. It's that White was so popular. This former star player became a start broadcaster. Everyone knows his call of Dent's 1978 blast against the Red Sox. "Deep to LEFT. Yastrzemski...will not get there it's a HOME RUN!" In blessed time of broadcasting in New York, the Mets had Bob Murphy, Ralph Kiner and Lindsay Nelson. The Yankees had White, Rizzuto, and Messer. Damn, those were good times.

2) Phil Rizzuto. The Scooter. Anyone alive pre-1996 knows him. While Harry Caray made it clear that it was HE who invented "Holy cow" and was never very nice to Rizzuto about it, we sided with the sweet kid from Brooklyn who was too small to play for Casey Stengel in his home borough. Eventually, Scooter carved out a great career with the Yankees before Stengel cut him in 1956. Saddened, the Yankees plopped him in the booth beginning in 1957. His was a career that, as a player, took him from Joe DiMaggio to Mickey Mantle. As a broadcaster, he went from Mantle to Derek Jeter. Holy cow, indeed. Before the malaprops and the birthday mentions (and leaving the booth to beat traffic), Rizzuto made himself into a solid announcer under the tough tutelage of Red Barber and Mel Allen. Most famously, Rizzuto sat at the mic for Roger Maris' 61st home run in 1961. He became more of a "clown" later on, but the early years were truly professional, calling the 1964 World Series and also appearing as a local voice on the 1976 Fall Classic.

Mel at Yankee Stadium

1) Mel Allen. You have to not know broadcasting to not know number one was obvious. There's one true "Voice of the Yankees" and it is Melvin Allen Israel. In terms of all-time, Vin Scully is number one. Period. Numbers two and three are a jump ball between Allen and Red Barber, so much so, that both were named the first recipient of the Ford Frick Award. Allen lived and died with baseball and the Yankees. He never married for that reason. He loved sports and being a sports broadcaster. Later generations know him for "Hello there everybody. This is Mel Allen" on This Week in Baseball. But historians know him for being a groundbreaking announcer who called the Yankees, All-Star  and World Series games from 1939-1964. Mel was run out of The Bronx after '64 (the given answer is that he was a casualty of cost-cutting by the broadcast sponsor). Mel felt lost after that, calling some games before being brought back to New York, first to appear at Mickey Mantle Day in 1969, and to be annual part of Old Timer's Day before returning to the booth on SportsChannel. There are too many iconic calls from Mel -- some that don't exist anymore, sadly. But he was there for a lot of history, including DiMaggio's streak, the 1949 pennant-winner, the five straight titles, Larsen's perfect game, and Maris' '61 season. He also called Dave Righetti's no-hitter on July 4, 1983. By then, the fastball was fading but he was still Mel.

And, remember when I couldn't convince myself to say hello to DeWayne Staats? That same day, I got to talk to Mel Allen, who told me it was a pleasure to meet me. Oh, no way. That pleasure was all mine.

I didn't forget about guys like John Flaherty. Flash is probably in the teens in my opinion, for instance, but I just didn't want to try to rate everyone.

With that, I'm going, going, gone.