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A few months later, on a lazy spring
night with the baseball season just under way, my dad called me into
his room. He got out a cribbage board and began to teach me one of
the best under-appreciated card games that exists. I really enjoyed
learning the game, but more than that, I just enjoyed spending time
with him. In some ways I think it mostly just gave him something to
do while listening to the Cardinal broadcasts.
My dad was a child of the radio
generation. He had been born in Hutchinson, Kan. (a town I have
never visited) and grew up in Denver, Colo. He shared with me
several times how St. Louis was not just a team for the local
markets, but that the Cardinals were the home team of the entire
Midwest. I didn’t fully realize the scope of his words until years
later when I became a rabid Redbird rooter.
At any rate, night after night we would
play cribbage and listen to the Cardinals. Many conversations were
hatched, lots of laughter was in evidence (mostly at one of Mike
Shannon’s interesting explanations), but the one real constant was
Jack Buck. My dad really liked Jack Buck.
I found that odd. My dad was pretty
hard to please when it came to radio and TV broadcasters. He felt
that most of them were too full of themselves. He felt that they had
become personalities instead of informed communicators. He despised
it when commentators tried to tell you what you just saw. He
never wanted their analysis. He often felt that that
was what was wrong with America — that nobody was thinking for
themselves.
He felt that Jack Buck respected his
audience and knew that Cardinal fans are widely regarded as the most
knowledgeable fans in all of baseball. As Walter Brennen used to
say, "No brag — just fact!" He would point out to me how Buck would
paint the picture for the fan but leave enough to the imagination to
give you the full experience — almost like actually being at the
game. My boy, he would say, many people can broadcast a ballgame;
Buck was one of the few that could do it right.
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this article]
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In those days it was very difficult to
be a Cards fan. The ’70s were not very kind to the Cardinal nation.
They tried some veterans. They tried some young players. They tried
mixing ’em together. Nothing seemed to work. But you wouldn’t have
known it if you were listening to Buck. He made every game in every
season seem like we were on the brink of the playoffs.
I recently heard that behind the scenes
he was as disgruntled as all of us fans were and that he seriously
considered retiring before Whitey Herzog descended on the scene.
I remember that summer (or one not too
long after it) that we took a family trip to St. Louis. For us kids
that was Nirvana. It meant going out to eat, staying in a hotel with
a pool and going to a ballgame. If life ever gets any better than it
was at that precise moment, I will immediately run a news bulletin
here at the LDN! But I don’t think that that is going to happen.
Anyway, we went to watch the Cardinals
play the Reds, and it was an epic battle, with Cincy taking a 2-1
lead into the late innings. Somehow, almost magically, the Cardinals
tied it 2-2 before the game advanced into the bottom half of the
ninth inning. One of my personal two or three all-time favorite
Cardinals stepped up to the plate in the person of Ted Simmons. With
an 0-2 count (and by the way, baseball history will record that
Simmons was one of the best 0-2 hitters in the history of the game)
Teddy launched one into the bleachers in right field. My dad stood
very dignified as he applauded. My mom, who never knew much about
sports, much less baseball, said that her little Ted hit her
a home run. But my brother and sister and I were just jumping up and
down going crazy… and so was Jack Buck.
That was to
be my first of many trips to Busch Stadium over the next 32 years.
But that was only the beginning…
[Jeff
Mayfield]
["Greatest Cardinal of them all"’ has fallen"]
[June 13 Mutterings] |
