Scully’s eloquence makes him best in baseball

Lately in the depth of summer I've found Chris Berman's woofing on ESPN to be intolerable. Jeanne Zelasko's scattered delivery on Fox's baseball pregame show gives me migraines. And ESPN's highlights policy -- run 'em until you're exhausted -- deflates the value of superlative plays.

So to restore my sanity I've turned to Vin Scully, whose TV calls of Dodgers games can often be heard here on Fox Sports Net's Prime Ticket (Channel 50).

Scully, who will turn 80 in November, is the greatest announcer in baseball history. His calls are like jewels. He respects the game, the viewer and himself, rare qualities indeed in the 21st century.

Scully was a 23-year-old graduate of Fordham University when he started calling games for the Brooklyn Dodgers with the famous Red Barber in 1950. He moved with the Dodgers to Los Angeles in 1958 and has been their voice ever since -- a stunning run in distinction and longevity.

Scully, a private, faithful man who declined to be interviewed for this column, used to be CBS's main baseball voice in addition to the Dodgers'. When his partners painted the town at night, he was known for returning to his hotel room after supper and preparing for the next day's broadcast.

But what makes him truly special?

For one thing, he cuts against the grain of modernism in his abhorrence of cynicism. He is a lyricist as much as an announcer. And his calls occasionally approach literature. A fortnight ago he opened a Padres-Dodgers game as follows:

"That great baseball mind said, 'Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion and knowledge.' His name was Plato. ... With desire, emotion and knowledge, Jake Peavy's and Brad Penny's behavior has gone from young throwers to elite pitchers. Tonight the eyes of the baseball world are upon Los Angeles as we witness the best the game has to offer -- pitching off the same mound, Peavy, Penny -- next!"

Some of his broadcasts are the stuff of legend.

In 1966, when he called Sandy Koufax's perfect game at Dodger Stadium extemporaneously, it went like this:

"Sandy into his windup, here's the pitch: swung on and missed, a perfect game! On the scoreboard in right field it is 9:46 p.m. in the City of the Angels, Los Angeles, California, and a crowd of 29,139 just sitting in to see the only pitcher in baseball history to hurl four no-hit, no-run games. He has done it four straight years, and now he caps it -- on his fourth no-hitter he made it a perfect game."

Scully's other signature call was of Kirk Gibson's Game 1-winning homer for the Dodgers in the 1988 World Series.

In the home ninth, with Mike Davis on first and the Dodgers down 4-3, Gibson, injured with two bad legs, hobbled to the plate to bat against vaunted Athletics closer Dennis Eckersley.

"And look who's coming up," Scully said. "You talk about a roll of the dice -- this is it."

Two strikes later, Gibson hit a roller toward first, limping about 50 feet before the ball went foul. "And it had to be an effort to run that far!" Scully observed.

Finally, on 3 and 2, Gibson launched an Eckersley pitch.

Scully was shocked. "High fly ball into right field, she i-i-i-is ... gone!" He then sat silently for all of 67 seconds while the crowd went nuts. Finally he spoke. "In a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened!"

Scully today makes an estimated $3 million a year. I listened closely the last few weeks for signs of slippage after 57 years, but there weren't any. And even if there had been, didn't Heifetz or Horowitz ever turn a quarter note into an eighth?

With Scully the ride is effortless, as though the listener were in a canoe on a smooth, fast-running stream. If you have Scully, you don't need the two- or three-man booth favored by the networks.

• BRITISH OPEN -- The ghosts of Carnoustie that did in Sergio Garcia and elevated Padraig Harrington on Sunday made for riveting TV on ABC (ESPN produced the telecast). It wasn't just the golf, but the atmosphere -- wind, rain, storied links course on the North Sea, and even curmudgeonly BBC announcer Peter Alliss.

Isn't Alliss' prickliness refreshing? After Garcia had just struck a putt, someone in the crowd yelled the typical Americanism "Get in the hole!" It was too much for Alliss to hear in the Royal & Ancient. "Oh, shut up!" he muttered into the microphone.

Bill Taaffe is a former award-winning media columnist for Sports Illustrated. His "Remote Control" column is published Tuesday. He can be reached at taffe-reviewjournal@earthlink.net.