Humble greatness
From his storied 67-year career, evidence of the late Vin Scully's greatness: 68 seconds of silence.
Humility is one of the most inspiring traits anyone can possess—it’s something I admire in others, and strive for, inadequately, in my own life.
And it’s the word that comes to mind when I reflect on Vin Scully, the great Los Angeles Dodgers broadcaster who passed away three years ago.
As the Dodgers gear up to play in the National League Championship Series and we’re about to hear from a variety of announcers, I thought it would be timely to share this 2016 essay that I wrote about Scully:
“Only days away from retiring after a 67-year broadcasting career with the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers, Vin Scully has possessed many qualities that have made him one of the most respected and admired announcers in Major League Baseball history.
Among those traits has been his ability to let history unfold without foisting commentary on the moment. Prime case in point: the 68 seconds of silence he allowed between calling Kirk Gibson’s dramatic game-winning home run for the Dodgers in the 1988 World Series opener and then speaking again into the microphone.
(See video below)
The words he spoke on both ends of that selfless restraint were equally marvelous.
As the ball soars into the night: “High fly ball into right field…she is GONE!”
Then, a full 45 seconds after Gibson had concluded his memorable, 23-second hobble around the bases: “In a year that has been so improbable…the impossible has happened!”
A replay of the jaw-dropping home run follows 20 seconds later, and nearly 10 seconds into it, Scully wryly observes: “And now the only question was, could he make it around the base paths unassisted?”
High Drama as Gibson Steps Up
Even before Gibson stepped into the batter’s box, there was high drama: as Oakland A’s relief pitcher Dennis Eckersley walked the previous batter, Mike Davis, an ailing Gibson hopped off the bench and began making his way to the plate.
“And look who’s coming up,” Scully remarked. Over the ensuing 35 seconds, he let the roar of the Dodger Stadium crowd provide the soundtrack before resuming his commentary. Scully had a great respect for the game and knew that he wasn’t bigger than it.
A Clear Contrast: Howard Cosell
Perhaps the sharpest contrast to Scully’s restraint: the late Howard Cosell, whose blowhard tendencies resulted in his repeated shifting of the spotlight to his own bombastic pronouncements.
To wit: Game 6 of the 1977 World Series, when Cosell barely let the ball clear the fence before rambling on and on as Reggie Jackson circled the bases—on each of his three home runs. (Scroll to the 45:50, 1:07:30, and 1:38:16 marks of the video for those three homers.)
So many others have weighed in on Scully’s excellence. Any fan of baseball, any fan of communication, any fan of professionalism would be well served to read some of those accounts.
But for me, how Scully allowed Gibson’s epic moment to stand out—without feeling the need to utter a single word—most eloquently captures his greatness.”
Below, a reflection of my math mania, are more data points from his call of Kirk Gibson’s stunning round-tripper:
By the Numbers: Gibson’s World Series Game 1 Winning Home Run in 1988
5:22: Length of Gibson’s at bat
4:36: Length of Gibson’s at bat with two strikes on him
8: Pitches that Eckersley threw to Gibson
4: Foul balls that Gibson hit
20: Estimated number of inches that a ground ball rolled foul down the first-base line, on an 0-2 pitch
3 ½: Minutes between that nearly game-ending grounder and Gibson’s home run swing
5: Pickoff attempts of baserunner Mike Davis—four by pitcher Dennis Eckersley and one by catcher Ron Hassey
2: Times Davis went to steal 2nd base. (The first time, Gibson fouled off the 1-2 pitch. He stole the base on Eckersley’s 7th pitch)
68: In seconds, length of time between Eckersley’s 2-2 pitch (a ball outside) and his final pitch
68: In seconds, length of time that Vin Scully remained silent after making his home run call (“High fly ball into right field…she is GONE!”)
12: Words that Scully used to capture what had just happened: “In a year that has been so improbable…the impossible has happened!”
29: Additional seconds that elapsed before Scully made his second post-game declaration, describing the replay of Gibson hobbling around the bases: “And now the only question was, could he make it around the base paths unassisted?”
46: In seconds, average length of time between Eckersley’s pitches (46, 65, 44, 26, 29, 44, 68)
29: Seconds it took for Gibson to round the bases
0: Number of at bats for Gibson, rest of the World Series
For a deeper dive into Scully, I recommend the brilliant essay written by Steve Rushin, The Smaller Vin Scully Made Himself, The Larger he Became.
My essay originally appeared on my website in September 2016 and was published in the Daily Herald in August 2022 (below), shortly after Scully passed away.
Yes. I agree. Baseball is a subtle, leisurely, and "timeless" sport that is best served by a master of the art of silence. And that was indisputably, Vince Scully: the best there ever was or will ever be. And Howard Cosell? He was a blowhard like you say; which made him perfect for a sport about which you likely know little: boxing. Remember "down goes Frazier, down goes Frazier, down goes Frazier?" No? It was the iconic call that lives to this very day in the heads of boxing fanatics like me. And Mr. Scully could never and likely would never have made such a call. Two different sports; two different styles. Each suited for their particular DNA. You also forget - and perhaps don't know - that Howard Cosell was one of the first - if not the first- national broadcasters to call Cassius Clay by his new chosen - and very controversial - new name: Muhammad Ali. And he (Cosell) was outspoken in his defense of Ali's decision refusing induction into the US Army. Cosell took a lot of heat in doing so. Howard Cosell did all this at the beginning of his rise to national broadcast stardom, putting his career at considerable risk. Of course Cosell was a shrewd man, and perhaps realized he was "hooking his wagon" to a once in a lifetime supernova. But who really knows? Do you? You really should reevaluate the broadcast career of Howard Cosell. Sure he was not the broadcast artist that Scully was. But for better or for worse Howard Cosell changed the profession.