Voices of Summer: Ranking Baseball's 101 All-Time Best Announcers (55 page)

The Greek poet Sophocles wrote, "One must wait until the evening to see
how splendid the day has been." Bob Murphy's included four World Series,
grand use of "marvelous," and "the happy recap" upon a Mets victory in the
ephemera capital of the world.

The last four digits of his phone number-6-3-8-7-spelled Mets.
Once, drained by a long trip, he signed into a hotel, "Robert E. Mets."
Murphy's Law was simple: "I tried to bring friendliness to the game."

In 1962, Bob, Lindsey Nelson, and Ralph Kiner began airing the Amazin's.
Murphy joined them at Cooperstown in 1994. "Can you believe it?" he said.
The early Mets had trouble turning two.TheirVoices went three-for-three.

In 1942, the Okie entered the Marines, became master technical sergeant,
and graduated from the University of Tulsa. He returned from war adrift.
"You like sports," said brother Jack, later San Diego Union sports editor.
"Why don't you try radio?"

Bob soon did Oklahoma football, Oklahoma A&M hoops, and hockey,
having never seen a game. "Those days made you use your imagination and
form an ad-lib ability." Each grew at Class C Muskogee and Texas League
Oklahoma City. "In the minors, you sell ads, do play-by-play, set equipment up."

In 1954, a break set up his life: Curt Gowdy's aide left Boston. "I replace
him, still trying to lose my accent," said Bob. "Curt said, `You're wearing a
cardigan sweater, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. We got work to do."'
Three years earlier, Allen had made Gowdy join the Sox. The 1960 Orioles offered the Cowboy's sidekick No. 1. "You can't not go," Curt said, recalling.
The Birds came out of nowhere to finish second.

A year later Jack Fisher faced Roger Maris. "It's number 60!" Murphy
said on WBAL Radio. "He's tied the Babe!" Next month the O's dumped
sponsor Theo. Hamm Brewery. Bob "got lost in the shuffle," approaching the
newly born Mets. G.M. George Weiss "wanted a household name": Nelson
was a network paladin. Ex-jock Kiner would have cachet. The third man
should leaven them, he explained: "be a steady professional."

Bob submitted his Maris tape. Listening, George found his man. "Bob
had a distinctive voice that filled the air," Nelson later said. "Calling baseball,
guys now sound the same." In 1962, NewYork hadn't been the same since the
Dodgers and Giants skipped town.

Some fans went underground. Others forswore baseball for a time, or life.
"Coming in against [the champion Yankees]," said Murphy, "I thought we
would have to struggle." For a while he did. "Curt taught a conversational
style and Lindsey didn't like it. He was a straight-ahead announcer, eyes on
baseball."

The 1962-78 Mets' became its longest-ever triad. After Nelson's nextyear exit, Bob increasingly seemed "the first sign of spring," Jay Greenberg
wrote. Marty Noble called his "the voice of all things Met"-at the beach,
aboard the Staten Island Ferry, in the back yard, rabbit ears ferrying Channel 9
-summer's soundtrack, dog-eared and beloved.

Murph's baritone could still rise an octave. "Heee struck heeem out!"
Another batter flew to left. "Deep ... it may go ... let's watch." Then:
"Here's the throw. Out at the plate!" Finally: "Fasten your seat belt-we're on
to the ninth." In 1969, Jerry Koosman was "wonderful"; 1973, Tug McGraw
"unbelievable"; 1985, Darryl Strawberry's "the most amazing homer I've
ever seen," striking the clock at Busch Stadium. Baseball was always "a game
of redeeming features."

In 1986, Game Six redeemed the L.C.S.: 7-6, vs. Houston, in 16
innings. "Swing and a miss! Swing and a miss! [Jesse Orosco] Struck him
[Kevin Bass] out! Struck him out! The Mets win it!" cried Bob, calling "of the
more than 6,000 games I've broadcast, easily the best."

Or was that the 1986 World Series'? Pick 'em, still.

Game Six began commonly, as epic theater can. Up, 3 games to 2, Boston
fronts, 2-0. Mets tie. Red Sox retake the lead. Mets retie: 3-all. At 1 1 :59 P.M., Dave Henderson's 10th-inning belt gave the Sox a 4-3 lead. "I
remember," said Murphy, "how he reached the dugout as Shea's scoreboard hit midnight." Boston added another run. The first two Mets flew
out in the bottom of the inning. The board blazed, "Congratulations
Boston Red Sox." The Series trophy entered their clubhouse. One out
would win.

Gary Carter got a hit to left. Kevin Mitchell and Ray Knight singled,
Carter scoring: Sox, 5-4. Bob Stanley's fifth pitch to Mookie Wilson eluded
Rich Gedman's glove to score Mitchell: 5-all. The din aped a 747 over Shea.
"Three-two the count," said Murphy. "And the pitch by Stanley. . . . And a
ground hall trickling ... it's a fair ball ... it gets by Buckner! Rounding third
is Knight! The Mets will win the ballgame! They win! They win!"

In Game Seven, Knight's homer put New York ahead, 4-3. Before midnight, the day turned splendid: Metsies, 8-5, an unforgettable, unanswerable
second world title.

Afterword. The '88ers won the East, beat the Dodgers 10 of 11 games, but
swallowed an antigen of an L.C.S.: Los Angeles, in seven. Having aired
"Bowling for Dollars," the Gator Bowl, and AFL New York Titans, Bob added
a third and final year of CBS Radio's "Game of the Week." In July 1990,
Philadelphia scored six ninth-inning runs and put the tying run on base. "Line
drive! It's caught! It's over! The Mets win the ballgame!" cried Murphy, who
seldom swore. "They win the damn thing by a score of 10 to 9!"

He entered Cooperstown, voice thicker, gait slower. Trimming workload
bought another decade: "The happy recap" became a life, not game. "I can't
remember first saving it. I do remember thinking it was corny, dropping it,
then mail on its behalf." Meeting him, pitcher Al Leiter retrieved youth on
the Jersey shore. "Then and now, Bob is the Mets."

The Mets' radio booth was named for Murphy. He retired in 2003,
musing, "It was a lot easier to say hello 42 years ago than it is saying good-bye."

The Shea crowd cheered, "Mur-phy! Mur-phy!" Former infielder Ed
Charles wrote a poem, "Ode to Murphy." A giant card read: "Dear Bob.
Wishing you all the best in your retirement. The Mets family." Signing: thousands of friends, who cried a year later on his death, at 79.

Byron wrote in "The Prisoner of Chillon": "My hair is gray, but not with
years, / Nor grew it white / In a single night, / As men's have grown from
sudden years."

Give Sophocles a season pass.

BOB MURPHY

"I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to
my horse," said CharlesV, Holy Roman Emperor. English is reserved for baseball's men of letters.

"Today is father's Day," Ralph Kiner begins. "So to all you fathers in the
audience, happy birthday."

The American Cynamid Co. becomes a Mets TV sponsor. Kiner goes to
break. "We'll be right hack, after this word from American Cyanide."

Again he nears commercial: "We'll be back after this word for Manufacturers Hangover."

Once Ralph said of Marvelous MarvThroneberry, "Marv never made the
same mistake twice. He always made different ones." Ibid, the Mets' comic,
cosmic, and ultimately beloved Voice.

"Home run hitters drive Cadillacs. Singles hitters drive Fords," Kiner is
alleged to have said. At four, his father died. Soon mom and son left Santa
Rita, New Mexico, for Alhambra, California, where a neighbor and semipro baseball manager "let me tag along and shag." Ironically, softball fueled the
Cadillac. "There wasn't the high arc on the ball that we see now. So I started
to swing upstairs, and it stuck."

To mom, upstairs meant becoming "a lawyer or doctor. She accepted
baseball only when I paid off her mortgage."The Yankees scouted Kiner, who
instead signed with Pittsburgh, got a $3,000 bonus, and bought a 1937 FordV roadster. In 1941, Ralph twice went deep in his first exhibition: "I [then]
got a little fat-headed." Pirates skipper Frank Frisch aimed to shrink.

"Kiner, why aren't you running laps?"

"Mr. Frisch, I have only one pair of baseball shoes, and if I wear them out
running, I won't have any for the games."

"Well, that's fine," he reddened. "You can take those shoes to Barnwell
[South Carolina, Bucs minor-league camp], because that's where you'll be
playing your next game."

After the Eastern League, International League, and Pacific Theater,
Ralph went to Pittsburgh in 1946. Next season it added Hank Greenberg:
neither laid down a squeeze. Forbes Field was a pitcher's park. The Bucs put
pens in left field, strung an inner fence, and cut the line by 30 feet. A year
later Hank retired. Greenberg's Garden became Kiner's Korner.

"Hank got me to stand near the plate. It was my difference," he said,
leading the N.L. in dingers every year from 1946 through 1952. 1948: Ralph
reached 100 in the bigs' least-ever career at-bats (1, 351). 1949: "Baseball's
Amiable Killer," said The Saturday Evening Post, had 54 with just 61 Ks. 1950:
TSN Player of the Year got a league-high $65,000. 1952: The Bucs finished
42-112. "How bad were we?" Kiner said. "Joe Garagiola was our catcher."

That fall he asked Branch Rickey for a raise. "I know you hit all those
homers," said the Pirates general manager, "but we could have finished last
without you." Joining the Cubs and Indians, Ralph retired with 369 homers:
only Ruth had more per at-bat.

"He's the only reason people came to the park," laughed Greenberg.
"Pittsburgh roared, `Thank God for Ralph Kiner! "' How to top the topper? It
took until 1969, but Ralph found a way.

In 1956, the P.C.L. Padres named Kiner G.M. He put on a microphone in
1961. "I'd played mostly in the National League, and here I am doing the
White Sox," re-creating the A.L. by day if Chicago played at night. The Hose
was a first-division team. The '62 Mets formed a league of their own. "I don't
ask how we lost 120," Stengel said later. "I wonder how we won 40."

Casey often specked WOR TV's post-game "Kiner's Korner." Ralph
tossed an early guest a lob. "Choo Choo, how did you get that nickname?"

Clarence Coleman: "I don't know."

"What's your wife's name and what's she like?"

"Her name is Mrs. Coleman, and she likes me, bub."

In hindsight, "Korner" seems a period piece: black and white, host and
star, "the best bad show," Mushnick said, "in TV history."Then it seemed revolutionary: "anecdotes, interviews with big shots-few of whom were
Mets." Once Pittsburgh's Jim Pagliaroni and Don Schwall appeared eating
grapes in togas and Roman gladiator helmets. To Kiner, it felt like '52 again.
The Amazin's could have finished last without him.

Yearly the team beamed from 100 to 137 games. The idea of anyone else
calling it never crossed your mind. "That's why Lindsey's leaving was a shock.
It broke us up," said Ralph. Like Murphy's, his badinage, voice, and vernacular denoted The Metropolitan Baseball Club of New York.

Many mots bared a baseball life. Terry Forster lost 15 pounds because "his
wife slept in front of the refrigerator. She gained 15 pounds."Another pitcher,
Rick Sutcliffe, "does interior designing on the side." Partner Fran Healy was
puzzled. Breaking chairs, "He redesigned Tommy Lasorda's office." Lines
were planned: "Statistics are like bikinis. They show a lot but not everything."
Some, uh, were not. The Mets didn't do well in the month of Atlanta." In
Montreal, "the Phillies again beat the Mets."

Howard Johnson became Walter Johnson; Darryl Strawberry, Darryl
Throneberry; Gary Carter, Gary Cooper; and Milt May, Mel Ott. In 1983,
Tim McCarver joined Ralph on cable TV's SportsChannel. Kiner renamed
him Tim MacArthur.

"Ralph, you're probably thinking of General MacArthur,"Tim said.

"What did I say?"

"`Tim MacArthur.' It's McCarver."

Ralph: "Well, close enough."

Mets lose, 9-1. "Earlier in the broadcast we talked about General
MacArthur," Tim said. "One of his favorite lines was `Chance favors a prepared man.' Obviously the Mets weren't prepared tonight."

Kiner eyed the screen: "MacArthur also said, `I shall return,' and we'll be
right back after this."

In 1960, Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev banged a lectern with his shoe at
the United Nations. Often the Mets' Mr. K put a shoe in his mouth. Once reliever Brent Gaff entered a game. Kiner couldn't see the number. Trying to
help, Tim put Gaff's name on paper.

Ralph said, "I beg your pardon, Frank Gaff is in the game."

Alarmed, Tim wrote "Brent." Kiner amended that "Frank Brent" was
pitching.

McCarver shook his head. "Check that," Ralph told his audience, "it's
Brent Frank."

In 1995, WOR canceled "Kiner's Korner," arguably the Apple's longestrunning TV show. "They could make more money going to news," Ralph
explained. 'Ninety-seven was worse: he suffered Bell's Palsy, temporary
slurred speech and facial paralysis. Three weeks later, wife DiAnn learned she
had cancer. "He started sobbing. He's such a tender-hearted man."

Ralph left the air, returning in late 1998 physically challenged, in the
argot of the time. Next year "he was fine," said his wife, "like he'd never
been away."