R.I.P. Harry Kalas

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Back in the mid-1990s, El Hombre was dispatched by His Editors to file reports and assay the situation at the annual ACC football coaches’ media gathering. The three-day event was taking place in southwestern Virginia, at one of those remote luxe properties where it’s impossible to get a worthy newspaper or find a restaurant off the grounds.

The flights to cosmopolitan Roanoke were uneventful, but the final two hours of the journey were where the fun began. As night collapsed upon the country roads leading to the hotel, the driving became more harrowing, and the slithering terrain offered less and less mercy. There were no lights. No signs. As these were the days before sweet-talking electronic navigators, EH relied entirely on a set of hand-written directions, culled from a hasty phone conversation with a resort employee. Hey, was that the Headless Horseman in that clearing?

When executing such drives, it is best to maintain a brisk speed, rely heavily on providence and work diligently to excise unhappy thoughts about Aintree. And it always helps to have something that tethers you to the comfortable world from which you have come. That talisman can take many forms, whether an object, a memory, or in this case the car radio. Despite being hundreds of miles from his home base, El Hombre was able to retrieve the crackly audio account of that evening’s Phillies game. It mattered little who the opponent was and which team was winning. But hearing Harry Kalas’ gentle baritone relating the successes and travails of the home team brought a measure of comfort to the uncertain drive. (The trip back, executed in daylight, revealed just how treacherous the mountain terrain had been and that one false move would have brought disaster.)

Kalas’ unexpected death Monday afternoon silenced the Phillies’ voice and assured that baseball in Philadelphia will never be the same. While the team will continue its defense of the 2008 world championship and forge on for decades after that, fans won’t have the proper soundtrack accompanying their heroes’ pursuits. Throughout the past 38 years, hundreds of players, 13 managers and dozens of coaches and front office personnel have passed through the franchise, making marks big and small. Throughout the nearly four decades, there has been one constant, and now that Kalas has gone, the Phillies franchise is forever changed.

Kalas was more than just an announcer. In some ways, he was the most important part of the team, even though he never threw, caught or hit a ball. His ability to relate the game in all of its mundane detail and emotional splendor allowed fans to identify with the Phillies on a level beyond the bond they formed with the players, who came and went. Hearing Kalas describe the action was like having a trusted family member or friend relate the team’s rise and fall (mostly fall) in a way that made it seem more personal and accessible. Fans who never made it to the ballpark still knew the Phillies, thanks to Kalas’ ability to bring them home.

His death is a reminder that for those of a certain vintage, the part of sports with which we closely identify is more and more fragile. The players of our youth have long since retired. The moments that meant so much are merely memories. Instead of having favorite players, we enjoy the experience. Wins and losses are important, but the ability to have a ballgame to watch or hear at the end of the day is an oasis. And there, amidst the lush foliage and cool streams, was Kalas, once again letting us know everything was right.

Since nothing lasts forever, Kalas’ ultimate demise was inevitable. And his recent health problems had given us all some hints that his voice would not be lingering for too many more seasons. With his death, baseball the game continues, but baseball the experience has been diminished greatly. That’s the saddest part of all this. Just as the atmosphere at a restaurant can determine whether a meal is savored fully, so did Kalas’ voice allow us to inhale Phillies baseball deeply and in the most satisfying manner possible. It isn’t melodramatic or overwrought to say that the Phillies will never be as enjoyable. Kalas provided the audio accompaniment to warm summer nights and great on-field moments. He entertained. He inspired. He made the game better and the fans’ experience of it more full.

And he was great on long drives, too.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: It’s playoff time in the NHL, and that means playoff beards. It’s a great concept, except when female fans decide to grow them…Notre Dame football coach Charlie Weis admits he had a discussion with his family about whether he would quit the post and head back to the NFL as an offensive coordinator. You can bet there are a few thousand Fighting Irish fans who wish Heavy C had adopted them, so that they could have voted on the decision…The NFL schedule was announced on Tuesday night, giving hungry fans something to do until the Draft next Saturday. In Detroit, kids used the schedule to work on their 16 times tables: 0-16, 0-32, 0-48…Anybody who has had the “privilege” of watching the Nationals play this year can’t help but wonder whether they have a chance to surpass the 1962 Mets’ record for baseball futility – 120 losses. Even if they can’t sink that low, at least they’re doing wonders for the self-esteem of fans in Pittsburgh and Kansas City…Lost in the furor over Isiah Thomas’ decision to take the head-coaching job at Florida International is the fact that the guy can’t coach. He can’t handle a GM job, either. And does anybody else remember how he trashed the CBA during his disastrous tenure there? Give him a couple years and FIU will regret hiring him. And given his track record, Thomas may succeed in torpedoing the whole school. By 2015, it could be called Florida Township University…El Hombre hopes he isn’t alone when he states that it doesn’t matter a bit whether espn transmits its late SportsCenter program from Los Angeles or one of the spaceships at Los Alamos. Stop trying to get people excited that two people are sitting in a studio on the West Coast and start eliminating the infuriating cross-promotion, self-aggrandizement and posterior polishing of the leagues and sports you pay to televise.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Thursday morning brought news that Celtics forward Kevin Garnett might not be able to play at all in the post-season, thanks to his cranky knee. If El Hombre were a cynic, he would say that this is all part of Uncle David Stern’s master plan to get the Cavs and Lakers together for a Finals ratings bonanza. Since he isn’t like that, he’ll just wish KG a speedy recovery. While Garnett tries to get back onto the court, members of the Rowboats, Archdukes, Drizzle and Sorcerer’s Apprentices will tune in to watch the playoffs, beginning this weekend. Storylines worth following include whether Houston will actually win a playoff series, now that Me-Mac is not there to mess things up; how well Denver plays with Chauncey Billups at the helm, rather than Mr. Casino; if the Spurs are cooked with Manu Ginobili done for the year; if Dwyane Wade plans to channel Bernard King and lead the Heat deep into the playoffs; and whether Mark Cuban will try to trade for LeBron James midway through Dallas’ first-round playoff series or if he’ll just fall back on his usual strategy of blaming the refs for everything. In the end, Uncle David gets his wish, and LBJ and Kobe square off for the all marbles. Who wins? You’ll have to wait until June for that one.

-EH-