(We borrowed the same image from ESPN)

http://hedgieshideaway.blogspot.com

A whirlwind of memories came to me this afternoon when my coworker informed me that Harry Kalas, the legendary broadcaster for my beloved Philadelphia Phillies had passed away. I feel the same way as many of my peers in that a part of my childhood did indeed die today. Baseball has always meant a lot to my family and myself. There are pictures floating around of me as a baby in a white and magenta onesie that proudly displays the Phillies signature “P” before they changed the logo in 1993. It was something I always talked about with my grandfather before his untimely death in 1998. We would talk players, stats, and history. He loved to tell me about how he and his boys would sneak into Shibe Park when he was a kid. He especially liked telling the story about how his favorite player was Pete Rose (or as he called him, “Charlie Hustle” because his name was Pete, my grandmother’s name is Rose, and he felt like that was “his” player.) I’d sit with him, my uncle, my cousins, and my dad watching the Phillies play as my aunt, mom, and grandmother would sit in the kitchen making dinner and talking. It goes further then that. I think about how I’d go to games at Veterans Stadium in the multi-colored seats before they were all painted blue and sit in the nosebleeds with my dad. We’d take the binoculars since you really needed them in those seats, and I’d look across the field and see Richie “Whitey” Ashburn and the voice of the Phillies, Harry Kalas sitting there in the cramped booth. Harry calling the game while Whitey smoked his pipe and adjusted his bifocals.

The one constant through all my childhood memories involving baseball was that Harry Kalas was always there calling the games either on TV or on radio. As a Phillies fan, you get accustomed to losing seasons. The Phillies only had one winning season in the 1990s, but Harry was there calling all the games with a child-like enthusiasm that would bring everyone to their feet with a smile across their face. All those losing seasons in the 90s and before that made it extra sweet when Harry got to call the final out for the 2008 World Series for his team. His Phillies. Players come and go. I remember watching Phillies players from Darrel Ackerfelds to Jon Zuber. From Bob Ayrault to Mike Zigurski and everyone in between up to the current superstars of the 2008 World Fucking Champions. But no matter who put on the Phillies pinstripes, they had the pleasure of hearing their voice said by Harry Kalas in such a way that he could do it.

Whether it was Mi-ckey Mor-an-dini or Bobby Abreeeeeu, Harry’s voice was something special that I will always connect to my childhood; a simpler time when I didn’t have to worry about my job, or money, romance, or having enough time in the day to do what I need to do. The days where I could sit on my deck as the sun set on the Pennsylvania skies, eat a frozen popsicle with my oversized Phillies hat on with my radio in hand and listen to Harry and Whitey call the game, cheering with every “outta here”, and feeling crushed when the team would lose. The ultimate pleasure came in 1996, when I wrote Harry a letter (along with several players and broadcasters) and received a personalized 8×10 glossy in the mail several weeks later that said “To Christian, Best Wishes, Harry Kalas.” I still treasure that picture to this day, and I will now treasure that item even more.

It’s no doubt to me that Harry will get the proper send off he deserves when the Phillies honor his memory in the near future. The fans will give a rousing ovation that will bounce off the South Philadelphia rowhomes and resonate through the Delaware Valley. Phillies fans lost a true legend today, and watching a Phillies game will never be the same again. However, those of us who had the pleasure of bleeding Phillies red over the years with Harry’s voice fueling our tears of sadness and joy will never forget our own memories we have that Harry helped provide the soundtrack for.

We’ll miss you Harry.

Kieran, thank you for the excellent article.

I really just was hoping it was a bad dream, but once I saw the outpouring of emotion from everyone who was touched by Harry, it made it real.

I feel bad for McCarthy. He’s a good announcer, but no matter how good he is, he has to follow a legendary Hall of Fame broadcaster.

It’s going to be hard to listen to the Phillies without hearing Harry doing the broadcast.

-KK

It took me until the tribute with Michael Barkann started on CSN, I think, for me to truly recognize what this means. He’s gone. Forever. No more games, no more “outta here”…

I like Tom McCarthy, but it wasn’t the same when he said “It’s Brad Lidge time.” Not even close.