Voices of Summer: Ranking Baseball's 101 All-Time Best Announcers (14 page)

Few Senators failed more grandly than 1956-59 infielder Herbie Plews.
One day hits and errors ricocheted off his chest, legs, arm, and head. "If we
took Herb out it might cost his confidence," said Bob. "If he stayed in, it might
cost the game." He stayed. "If there'd been a crowd, it would have roared."

The next batter bounced to Plews, who bobbled, snatched the ball, and
nipped his man. Washington still trailed in the ninth inning. Herbie lashed a
two-out triple. Nats win. Players sob. "Herbie Plews! Tell me there weren't
giants in the land."

"I wasn't like Allen. He had a team. All I had were stories." Once, D. C. began
the ninth seven runs behind. On a whim, Bob midwifed fantasy. "Our camera
has a magic ray. If we focus on a fielder, the ray will so mesmerize him that the
ball will go through, by, or over him. This demands a concentrated thought
process. If even one of you isn't thinking `hit,' our rays can malfunction."

The camera eyed the rival shortstop. The first Senator singled. The next
shot fixed the third baseman: a ball escaped his glove. One by one, Nats
reached-"each after the camera predicted where the baseball'd go"bringing Washington within a run. Bases full; two out; Mickey Vernon lined
toward right. Leaping, the first baseman snagged the game.

Dazed, Bob hailed his audience. "They'd almost wrought a miracle until
perhaps one had to leave the TV," ending the spell. He went to break, trying
to cast one. "Remember," Wolff later said, "When the sponsor writes your
name, What he wants to hear, It's not who won or lost the game, But how
you sold the beer."

By 1953, Bob was baseball's sole ambidextrous beer-pourer:
"amphibious," to Yogi Berra. In Florida, he poured smartly. Opening Day
overflowed the glass. Mystery left a post-game huddle. "This is hot beer!" said aide Joe DiMona. "In spring training beer was refrigerated." Cigars were
another sponsor. "Don't do it like Mel," said DiMona. "He puts it in the front
of his mouth. Put the cigar on the side."

Bob put it in the ashtray. "Stop!" the producer said.

"What happened?"

"Cigarettes, put in the ashtray. Cigars, put in your mouth." The Nats
hoped merely to keep from putting out to sea.

Wolff felt a gentle protectiveness for their owner and padrone. Daily Griffith
watchedTV's "The Lone Ranger.""He grew up in the West, was a small-town kid.
The show brought hack memories." Clark died in 1955. Son Calvin became president. Having made the bigs, Wolff despaired of making them big.

Then another break occurred.

In 1956, Gillette was baseball's sole network sponsor. "I'd say, `How about
[Mutual] network work?'They'd say,'If your name gets big enough, we'll put
you on.' I'd say, `Put me on tonight, and my name will be big enough
tomorrow.' " In 1956, D.C. hosted the All-Star Game. "I wore Gillette out.
Plus, I knew the park," airing the only game where Musial, Mays, Mantle, and
Williams homered.

That March, Bob asked Ted on his pre-game show. "`Don't bother me,"
Williams said, then recoiled when we met." Grudgingly he agreed if hitting
.340 by late summer. On August 7, Ted blew a fly, was jeered, spit at Femvay,
entered the dugout, came out and spit again. Tom Yawkey fined him $ 5,000.
"The incident made headlines everywhere," said Wolff. Radio/TV raged.

Next stop: Washington. Bob cornered Williams, batting .357. "Ted, I
understand if you don't want to keep our agreement. But if you do, I have to
ask about the spitting." No. 9 appeared, hating it. "He grimaced, expressed
remorse, and said he was there because of our `friendship.' " Having already
interviewed Mantle "with Ted, sport's most famous athlete"-Wolff took
their tapes to NewYork.

Syndicated series were rarer then than later. Bob sold Colgate Palmolive a
pilot. "From that came programs I did for the Yankees, Red Sox, and A's--a
different one per club." By September, finally-a-name aired eight shows daily.

Gillette gave up, giving him the 53rd World Series.

On October 8, 1956, before 64,519, the Yanks and Dodgers played Game
Five at The Stadium. New York led, 2--0. Dale Mitchell hit in Brooklyn's
ninth. "I'll guarantee that nobody-but nobody-has left this ball park," cried Wolff on Mutual. "And if somebody did manage to leave early-man,
he's missing the greatest! Two strikes and a ball! ... Mitchell waiting, stands
deep, feet close together. Larsen is ready, gets the sign. Two strikes, ball one.
Here comes the pitch. Strike three! A no-hitter! A perfect game for Don
Larsen!"

One break begets another. "[Next day] Robinson waits. Here comes the
pitch-and there goes a line drive to left field! Slaughter's after it, he leaps!
It's over his head against the wall! Here comes Gilliam scoring! Brooklyn
wins [its last Series game]! Jackie Robinson is being pummeled!" Others:
1958 and 1961 Series, Rose, Gator, and Sugar Bowls, Colts, Browns, and
Redskins, and 1958's Greatest Game Ever Played-"The Colts win! [NFL
overtime title game, 23-17] Ameche scores!" Unlike the Nats, play-by-play
sufficed.

Bob headed the local Knothole Gang, petitioned hangers, coat hooks,
and bottle openers, and sold his scorebook at Griffith Stadium. Jerry Lewis,
Bill Dana, and Jonathan Winters headed celebrities in the booth. "They
appeared in the middle innings. I was too busy setting the stage earlier and
capping it later"-but not for "The Singing Senators."

Ask players now to start a gratis glee club. "Their answer couldn't go in
a book." Albie Pearson, Jim Lemon, and Roy Sievers, among others, sang
melody. Howie Devron played accordion. Wolff stringed ukelele. "The Senators" played NBC's "Today Show" in 1959. That year, Harmon Killebrew's 42
dingers led the league. Power and shyness shaped a Garbo of the game.

One day Wolff coined a plan. "I'll bring you to a father and son game and
insert you as Mr. Smith. After you hit the ball 10 miles, I'll say on the P.A.,
`That's Harmon Killebrew.' "

Anonymous sans uniform, he thrice missed or grounded out. "The
catcher tipped the bat. Let's try again," Bob said. No. 3 barely tapped the next
pitch. Wolff: "Harmon Killebrew is the batter but doesn't want to lose your
softball. Just to show his power, he'll fungo it and we'll bring it back."

Pop-up. "Let's get back to the game," he told the crowd. "It's getting late."

Returning to D.C., Bob consoled his rider. "Don't worry. You'll be a Hall
of Famer in hardball. Skip the softer stuff."

After the 1960 season, Griffith tried to elude the sheriff by moving the team
to Minneapolis-St. Paul. "Even with Killebrew we weren't drawing," Wolff
said. "Calvin wanted me to go with him." He did, but missed the East.
Expansion Mets G.M. George Weiss phoned in late 1961. The Daily News pealed: "Wolff Coming." Problem: no station/sponsor. Time passed. The
renamed Minnesota Twins pressed Bob to decide. "I went to Weiss, and he
was sorry but just couldn't make a commitment"--another break, unseen.

Like dominoes, Weiss signed WABC Radio, WOR TV, and Lindsey
Nelson, airing NBC baseball since 1957. "He got what might have been my
Mets job,"Wolff said. "Then NBC comes to me with Lindsey's job!" becoming
with analyst Joe Garagiola "Major League Baseball"'s 1962-64 alternative to
CBS's Dizzy Dean.

"We were bigger in cities, but Dean was monumental elsewhere," said
Bob. Perfect and fractured English clashed each Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Wolff did NBC's 1962-65 Series pre-game show and 1962
Giants-L. A. playoff, Game Two a record four hours and 18 minutes. "Each
half-hour the network said, `This program will not be seen tonight because
of baseball.' Another 30 minutes later, they'd chop another."

In 1965, ABC bought regular-season exclusivity. After several games Bob
was approached by Madison Square Garden, a P.A. boss since 1954. "They
floated a new cable network, the chance to launch something big." He began
by hyping "the wonderful aroma" of Robert Burns Imperial. The sponsor
especially loved Wolff waving a cigar under his nose.

"Terrific," he said. "One suggestion. Next time you praise the wonderful
aroma"-pause--"take the cigar out of the glass tubing first."

Bob did as many as 250 MSG events a year, including the Stanley Cup,
NBA final, and Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. Donning coaching
garb, he gave dogs in a locker room a "pup talk." Missing was Wolff's
favorite-since-childhood game. "I love baseball, but travel kills you." His
valedictory still lives.

Joining News 12-Long Island, Bob became America's longest-running
TV sportscaster. In 1995, entering Cooperstown, he strummed "Take
Me Out To the Ballgame" on "The Singing Senators'" ukelele. Six years
later my wife and I adopted two young children in Ukraine. We saw a bandura for sale-Ukrainian for the instrument. Buying it, I played baseball's
Marseille.

That year Wolff gave the Hall of Fame his 1950s TV series. In 2002,
retrieving them, he sold the MSG Network "Bob Wolff's Scrapbook." The
program evoked baseball's then-hold on the American sensibility. "Darned if
it didn't become a hit," he said.

The final break was ours.

BOB WOLFF

Point. In 1948, Cleveland averaged 33,598 per date, drew a bigs record
2,620,627, and won its first World Series since 1920. "For someone my age
[39]," said rookie Jimmy Dudley, "it was Utopia." Counterpoint. The 1960-67
Tribe never drew a million people, placed as high as third, or breathed past June.

"The longer I stayed, the worse they played," Dudley said. In 1997, he made
the Hall. Raised in Lansing, Ohio, Phil Niekro was not surprised. "We had
Wynn, Feller, and Garcia. But Jimmy was as big a hero as I had."

The hero died February 12, 1999, of Alzheimer's disease compounded
by a stroke. To many, he still meant "Wait Till Next Year [again]."

Born in Alexandria, Virginia, three miles from the White House, Jimmy
moved to Charlottesville as a boy. At the University of Virginia, he played
baseball, football, and hoops, majored in chemistry, and was hired by
DuPont. Trying radio, Dudley joined WOL Washington. "I was opposite
Arthur Godfrey. Marconi had more listeners." Waterbury, Syracuse, and Pittsburgh followed, then Chicago, as Hal Totten's gopher. "He banned playby-play. Like Ted Husing, he said, `First thing you know, you take my job.' "

In World War II, Jimmy took an Army Air Force plane to India for operations intelligence. "What do you do, sell 'em or repair 'em?"' a GI mocked his
vow to re-enter radio. In 1946, WJW Cleveland hired Dudley for football and
hockey. Next season, he called a sandlot exhibition at Municipal Stadium.

Point. "I thought, `This might be as close to the bigs as I get.' " Counterpoint: A Carling Brewing sponsor was listening. "That's who I want to do our
games, the guy I just heard on the radio." Bill Veeck obliged. "`Get the fans
interested!' he'd roar," said Dudley. Belly dancers roamed the stands. Each
woman visitor got a Hawaiian orchid. Joe Early wrote that he, the average
fan, deserved a night. Veeck gave him a car and boat.

"Bill stuck S&H green stamps under certain seats, signaled, and had everybody close theirs to see if they won. Manhattan never heard such noise." Municipal was loud enough: in 1948, an American League day, night, and twinbill
record 71,181, 78,392, and 82,781, respectively, filled the lakefront bowl.

To Dudley, each game seemed supernal. Later he rued not quitting
while ahead.

"Greatest season ever," the rookie called player/manager Lou Boudreau's
.355, 155 RBI, and MVP. Gene Bearden and Bob Lemon each won 20 games.
Satchel Paige, 42, had girls around the league. One vamped Boston's South
End platform. "Hey, baby," Satch said, "when you walk you shake that thing
just like a caboose." She smiled. "Big boy, you ain't seen nothing. You ought to
see me when I got a passenger."

On October 4, the Tigers and White Sox networks carried Jimmy's feed
of the Red Sox-Indians playoff. Ironically, he had dogged Ted Williams all
year like a bone. Bald since his twenties, Dudley finally roused the spunk to
seek an interview. "Jesus, you skinhead,"Ted roared, "I thought you'd never
ask." Each wondered why Boston pitched journeyman Denny Galehouse.
"They figured it didn't matter," guessed Jimmy. "Going into Fenway was like
throwing the Christians to the lions!"

Instead, Tribe, 8-3: Birdie Tebbetts made the final out. "Keltner moves
in, knocks it down, finds the handle. Here's the throw to Robinson and ...
the ball game is over!" said Dudley. "Yes, the Cleveland Indians win their
first American League pennant in 28 years. And man, oh, man, how I'd like
to be down on Euclid Avenue right now!" The Christians had a better
pitcher. Next week a downtown parade hailed the Series.

In 1954, Dudley called Mutual's All-Star Game from Municipal: A.L.,
11-9. On September 12, 84,587 jammed the oval. Early Wynn, Bob Feller,
Mike Garcia, and Lemon forged an Arthurian Big Four. The Indians went a
league-record 111-43. Their Classic was less Camelot than charade. "We
own the world, then get swept by the Giants," said Jimmy, softly. "In many
ways, the franchise was never quite the same."