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| Vin and Joe Garagiola on NBC in the 1987 NLCS |
We'll be OK without live sports. Honestly. We need to hang in there.
And, yet, these are the times when we need sports more than anything.
(I'll say up front that I'm in no way as eloquent as Mike DiMauro of The Day of New London but he and I have been in lock-step on this from day one.)
Mike's Twitter feed is here. I hope to get Mike on Doubleheader soon. I'm thankful for a voice of reason.
In these hazy, crazy days of COVID-19, some narratives have emerged. For one thing, there's a preponderance of holier-than-thou types who tell us from on high that we have/need to learn to communicate with our loved ones and so on.
For the love of Graham McNamee.
Who are those people (Shawn Sailer, do NOT say it's you)?
Regardless of no games to play, there are always things to talk about -- sports and otherwise.
Please go ahead and ask any significant other of mine -- anyone. If anyone is guilty of thinking I'm a one trick pony (meaning sports) then they don't know me. Heck, just go through this blog and you'll see otherwise.
So, who are those people? I don't necessarily talk sports all the time with my fellow broadcasters that I'm close to. We talk music, relationships, and life.
Yet, if we do need sports, who's being harmed? Sports is our safe place. It's our entertainment.
For me, it doesn't have to be live sports (at least for now). There are plenty of outlets within sports without them being live. I've told you before about the Background Baseball skill on Alexa and there are plenty of classic games on YouTube, as the great (yes, great) Mike Vaccaro elaborated about in the NY Post today. Personally, I watched the Yankees/Orioles "Bobby Murcer Game" on Friday night on YES. Last night, I enjoyed parts of World Series play from 1948, 1964, and 1967.
But, there's something I've been longing for. The Master. The Poet Lauriate of Baseball. The GOAT of GOATS.
Yessir. Mr. Vin Scully. So I grabbed a "Redlegs" (it was the 50s, remember)/Dodgers game from Brooklyn on May 7, 1957. No disrespect to Jerry Doggett or Al Helfer, but I went straight for the sixth inning when Vinny greeted us.
Now THAT'S poetry. There are some (many?) who don't understand watching or listening to an old game, but I completely get it. As I did laundry and vacuumed and worked around the house, it served as comfort for me. I could hear the exploits of Jackie Robinson and Rube Walker and Don Drysdale and Frank Robinson and Carl Furillo and the Duke of Flatbush himself.
I could hear the scoreboard -- the Yankees and Indians were scoreless at the time they gave the score, though Cleveland won 2-1 and lost star pitcher Herb Score, as he was hit in cheek by a laser shot off the bat of Gil McDougald.
This, for me, is classical music. It's comfort food. It's more than just a time capsule or "a game." It's the book or movie that you inhale again.
Still, this doesn't define me. I have music. Books. Movies. TV. A son. Loved ones.
Sports is a part of me. I love it and it's in my blood. I feel bad if there are people who are that bad.
But, to hear that mellifluous voice, imploring us to light up a Lucky (Lucky Strike was the sponsor of Dodgers broadcasts, and I'm a staunch non-smoker, for the record), was simply the tonic for a Sunday.
We'll get through this. I keep saying it.
I do think the "social distancing" thing is right at this juncture. Stay out of the groups for now. Just for a short stretch. I know that's bad for bars, etc (and sports broadcasters) but let's get this thing over with.
We can talk sports. Old sports and the future of sports. But we can also do myriad other things in a life.
Nobody needs to preach about it. We'll all be just fine.
I don't know who those people are that others are talking about.
It's not me.
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