Detroit - Best game I ever attended came April 7, 1998, when I sat in aisle 105, row 9, seat 6 at historic Wrigley Field, the first game I ever caught with my father inside the Friendly Confines. Despite the Cubbies dwindling on a dropped ball by Slammin’ Sammy Sosa, followed by a two-hour rain delay in an Arctic-cool downpour, only to restart to watch the North Side fall to the Big Apple Mets, spending an afternoon there with my dad was perfect.
Best game I ever saw came Sept. 8, 1998, inside my living room, where I watched Big Mac crush No. 62 off Cubbie pitcher Steve Traschel inside St. Louis’ Busch Stadium, clearing the left-field wall and breaking Major League Baseball’s single-season home-run record held by Yankee clipper Roger Maris. Mark’s spikes leaped over first base - mine, the coffee table. Watching him thank Maris’ family and hug co-star slugger Sosa there that afternoon was perfect.
Best game I ever heard came Sept. 15, 2002, when I tuned in to hear legendary Tigers’ broadcaster Ernie Harwell call one of his last games - Tigers and Royals - on his tributary day at the Woodward Avenue ballpark - again, perfect.
The 84-year-old self-proclaimed tongue-tied kid from Georgia has been the sound of summer for 55 years. After 42 years, the Hall-of-Fame voice of the Tigers calls balls, strikes, games and, now, his radio booth career over. It was his call - always has been.
Ernie is as much Michigan as Vernors, Sander’s and Faygo, as baseball as the sweeping curveball, sweet spot and the double play, as consistent as Lou Gehrig, Cal Ripken Jr. and Joe DiMaggio, as graceful as Ken Griffey Jr.’s swing or Willie Mays’ over-the-shoulder catches, as Detroit as Diana Ross, the Ford Mustang and a Lafayette Coney Island. To say life without Ernie inside the radio will be easy is as wrong as intentionally walking a Tiger batter.
Under gray skies in the 71-degree September temperature at game time, the weathered and wrinkled broadcaster mikes up on WXYT (1270-AM) inside Comerica Park on Sunday - Ernie Harwell Day, officially.
His warm, rich voice, which has grown a tad rough over the years, sounds for three innings.
Everyone at Comerica has been sweet on Ernie ever since he announced his retirement from baseball in spring training.
“I feel like I’ve had a sugar overload,” he says about pregame Ernie celebrations, moments before Tiger pitcher Jason Beverlin’s delivery of the first pitch. “Well, we’re ready to go now,” Ernie chimes. “Mr. Beverlin is on the mound now and he’s ready to go. The right-hander delivers and a strike is called.”
With seven decades of baseball under his belt, Ernie has been designated to fewer innings of America’s pastime, giving listeners fewer opportunities to catch Ernie’s, well, Ernieisms.
Catch ’em while you still can.
With two outs in the bottom of the third inning, Tiger left-fielder Bobby Higginson stares down strike three after a full-count dueling with Royal pitcher Runelvys Hernandez.
“He stood there like the house by the side of the road and watched that one go bye,” Ernie says.
Thanks Higgy, I needed to hear that Ernieism one more time.
Ernie’s colorful calls paint the prettiest of pictures, as descriptive as commentators come.
With bases loaded in the bottom of the first, Royal right-fielder Aaron Guiel connects on a 3-2 count, fouling to Tiger third baseman Chris Truby who...
“Drops it,” Ernie calls. “He had it and then he dropped it. A very routine play and Truby had it hit his glove and squirt out like a wet watermelon seed.”
The vacancy left behind such a broadcaster leaves many Tiger and baseball fans in tears. Even angels hovering over the outfield Sunday needed tissues. “I think it’s beginning to drizzle, I see the umbrellas up,” Ernie notes.
Come October, even with the Tigers’ season over, Detroiters lose. We lose one of the game’s greatest.
“It’s unlike a lot of sports,” he says.
And you’re unlike a lot of sports commentators. Ernie always has been good for the game - always will be.
“Remember me as someone who deeply appreciated the love and affection that you gave me over so many baseball seasons,” he asks of his fans.
Ernie, don’t be Long Gone
