A Tribute to one of the Greatest

I wrote this article on August 4th, one day after the death of one of the greatest announcers baseball has ever seen…

As a young Mets fan growing up in the New York area, I had the privilege of going to every game the Mets have played in my lifetime.

No, my dad didn’t have season tickets, and no, my mom didn’t have connections with the club. I had a radio, and from 1962-2003, that’s all anyone needed to be able to see the action.

The reason? Bob Murphy, the Mets’ Hall-of Fame announcer, who for forty-one years described baseball to thousands of ticket-less fans and did it better than anyone else in the business. Through the bad times (40-120 in 1962) and the good times (1986 World Series Champs), the only constant for Mets’ fans was that Murph’s voice would be ready each year when spring brought baseball back to life.

He would always begin a broadcast by describing the clouds in the sky, making his way to the weather and eventually the baseball. He understood that no matter who you are, when you listen to the radio you are blind and Bob Murphy was the best eyes a listener could have.

What’s more, he not only loved the Mets, but also the game itself. He saw baseball for much more than just the national pastime. He saw it as a lifestyle; an existence.

"Let me tell you this" Murphy once said, "the wonderful people you meet along the way are what it’s all about, and you won’t meet better people than those in Baseball". He loved his job, and he was damn good at it.

After every Mets win, he would give his "happy recap," in which he broke down every single aspect of the game that had any importance. Even as he grew old, he continued broadcasting Mets games, and why not? When Mookie Wilson’s grounder dribbled through Bill Buckner’s legs to keep the Mets alive in ’86, it was his screaming voice that spread the news throughout New York, and two nights later, when Jesse Orosco clinched the team’s second World Series Title, it was his voice celebrating all night long.

Last year, at age 78, Bob Murphy decided to call it quits. He had been inducted into the Baseball Hall-of-Fame and it was finally time to throw in the towel. As the Mets 2003 season came to an end, he gave his final "happy recap" and said goodbye to the broadcast booth forever. On September 25th, the Mets held "Bob Murphy Night" at the ballpark. The night was filled with happy, memorable moments and capped by a teary good-bye. At the time, very few people knew that he had already been diagnosed with lung cancer.

After his retirement he moved down to Florida, yet continued watching every single Mets Game on his Satellite TV. Up here in New York, it was eerie listening to another voice calling Mets games. He was a legend; his voice had become a comfort zone for thousands of Mets fans, and without it, it was like a part of the Mets had died.

I used to opt not to watch the Mets on TV just so I could watch the game through Murph’s eyes and for countless nights, he was under my pillow as the Mets played deep into the night, long after my week-night curfew.

Everyone has their own myriad of Bob Murphy stories, but my all-time favorite was from a Mets game when I was much younger. Howard Johnson was a Met back then and while he could hit fastballs as well as anyone in the game, he couldn’t touch any of the off-speed stuff. I remember listening to a game, in the later innings, with the Mets down one and in dire need of a miracle. Johnson came to bat with a man on, and the opposing pitcher started him off with a fastball, straight down Broadway. Johnson jumped on it. Smashed it. Putting it over the fence and giving the Mets a one run lead.

Bob Murphy, after finishing calling the play says "What was [the pitcher] thinking throwing that fastball!? That’s like trying to sneak sunrise past a rooster".

I laughed out loud at that, and probably should not have as it was well past midnight and I was "sleeping".

Anyway, with Murph gone from the booth, things didn’t seem right anymore. With his moving to Florida, he more or less dropped off the radar. That is, until last night, when I got the horrible news that earlier in the day, Bob Murphy had passed away due to lung cancer.

Following his death, calls from hundreds of Mets fans filled the switchboard at WFAN, the station that we had all once relied on to find the uncanny soothing and calm in his voice. All night long, people called in to give their favorite Murph moment or just to pay tribute to the man who at one point or another had filled their hearts with joy.

"He made me a baseball fan. A Mets fan." Said one caller last night, "And as visual a person as I am, I’d rather listen to him call the game, then go to the park itself". Murphy was on the minds of thousands of baseball fans last night, and there is no doubt that on his way out, he gave Mets fans one last thing to cheer about.

After loosing twelve of their last sixteen, the Mets took the field last night with grief in their hearts and fired up to play. They batted, they fielded and they pitched, and when the dust settled they had torched the Brewers 12-3. It was the most runs they had scored all season, and could not have come at a better time. Still five games under .500 the chances of the Mets making anything of their season are slim, but who knows what a little help from above can get you…  

Last night, Steve Summers of WFAN said "Murph was the type of guy that you always felt you knew, even if you never met him". To me, that sums him up perfectly, because I’ve never met him and yet for the first 15 years of my life, he took me to the ballpark almost every single day.

     

    -Eben Novy-Williams