As a kid growing up in my house you just got used to the sounds of a summer Sunday. “The 0-2 pitch, swing and a miss! Struck heeeeeeeeeeeeem out and the Phillies are out of another jam here in the bottom of the eighth inning…”
That voice was so distinctive and for years it was paired with Hall of Famer Richie Ashburn who we lost back in 1997. The sound of those two incredible sportcasters mingled in the air of our Palmer home along with the smell of my mother’s lasagna.
Today my sound of summer has been silenced. Harry Kalas has now also left us at the much-too-young age of 73. I just heard him the other night as he came on to announce in the 7th inning against the Colorado Rockies. I was even thinking that day how just the sound of his voice made me feel—like all was right with the world. On that breezy, blustery day, it made me long for summer all the more.
When I was a kid, I sat and watched many games with my father. If I promised to be quiet through nine innings, I would get a dollar and a ride to 7-11 for a Slurpee. After a while it wasn’t even hard to sit and watch; I really enjoyed the games and spending time with my dad. I collected baseball cards and knew the Phillies line-up through most of the 1970s inside and out.
I might have been doing something else in the house when the game started, but the sound of that voice sucked me in soon enough and I was on the couch watching—a root beer in my hand, a jittery feeling in my stomach—would they win today?
No matter. Kalas was there calling the game. Dad was sitting in his chair—the family pooch on his lap. All was right with the world.
Harry you will be missed.
Harry Kalas, 1936-2009
