When the time comes to leave this world, you can only hope to leave moments that live on as memories for others. Vin Scully moved a city. He affected generations. He changed a sport and the very nature of what broadcasting could and should be.
Scully, the man synonymous with the team he covered for over 60 years, passed away on Tuesday at the age of 94.
There are many people more eloquent than me who will pen beautiful prose to honor this master storyteller.
So much of what has mattered to me personally changes with each chapter of my life; there have been very few constants. However, the sound of Vin’s voice was one of them.
As placating as a parent’s embrace, as enthralling as the vitality of the ballpark, Scully’s broadcasts surpassed a call of a game. It was so much more.
His voice was an inextricable part of the experience that so many of us enjoyed and, sadly, so many more will miss.
One of his greatest talents was knowing when to step back and let the game take over and color the moment. I’ll take a step back now and offer up just a modicum of the moments that made me smile during an evening devoid of much joy.
Vin showed us all that the best part of this maddening sport isn't the numbers. The stats, the hits, the home runs. They're all just plot points to a greater tale. It's the human stories that make this game great.
From the mundane and trivial to the heroic, each chapter can be just as compelling or hilarious as the next.
Like fireworks on the Fourth of July coloring the L.A. night, you can almost sense the wonderful stories, shots being taken in his honor and highlights of his calls being played and told throughout Los Angeles and the greater baseball world.
Scully was, at the very heart of things, a master storyteller. No good story ever dies. It lives on. It’s passed down from parent to child and so on.
Scully will live on in the stories he told, in the smiles he helped create, and in the very feeling that we all feel the moment we hear his name and his iconic voice.