Holy Cow

The world of baseball and of any sports fan is a little less bright today. Yeah, I know I'm behind the newscycle, but I wanted to acknowledge Scooter Rizzuto.

Not only did he give us one of the best moments in Adam Sandler movie history ("Rirruto?"), he also gave us one of the great catchphrases in sports history. It's too damn bad that Harry Caray took it over.

I remember driving back home from family vacations in New Hampshire, and hitting the New York City area, getting stuck in traffic. The only positive was digging up Scooter on the broadcast, and turning it up. While I was an Orioles fan, and didn't much care about the Yankees, Rizzuto and the noise from the ballpark found a way to get me to pay attention a bit. I think the rest of the ride home my brother and I kept going "Holy Cow" to each other.

Baseball is losing the storytellers. About the only good one out there now is Jon Miller of the San Francisco Giants. Jon Miller is the man who got me into baseball, whose radio broadcasts on Summer evenings I'd lie in bed, arm hanging off the side of it and my head about to join it, volume turned down to a low, almost inaudible buzz until the seventh innning, when I'd finally nod off. It was story after story, and Jon would sometimes get caught on the air having to make a comment with two hot dogs in his mouth. I loved it.

Rizzuto was one of those storytellers. I think that's why I latched onto him on a Sunday afternoon in a hot car.

RIP Scooter

(And yes, it looks like Boss Steinbrenner actually is showing some class. As a fellow Eph, I'm happy to see that.

And if you don't get goosebumps from the press release's opening line:

I guess heaven needed a shortstop.

then you're not a baseball fan. Well done George.)