In an up and down year for an inexperienced baseball team, it was one of the down days. Dan Dickerson and Jim Price did everything they could do to maintain the listener’s interest, even though it had to be difficult for them to stay awake themselves.
Dickerson, with twenty-one years as a Tiger broadcaster and eighteen as the lead radio announcer, is as professional as they come. He arrives prepared, invested and curious about every nuance of the game from the first pitch to the final out. Price, his partner, has been in one booth or another for twenty-eight years and fills the color role, drawing heavily on his undistinguished five-year career as a Tiger backstop. Price’s clowning used to bother me, but Dickerson will take every opportunity to feed him the set-up that allows him to spiel out another of his trademark quips. Yogi Berra he ain’t, but what the hell, Yogi’s dead and Jim was part of the 1968 World Championship team, right?
If you’ve read my blogs in the past, undoubtedly you know how much I love baseball, it’s a lifelong affair. Miss Kitty and I listen to a lot of the radio broadcasts because (a) we understand the game, (b) have vivid imaginations and (c) refuse to pay for cable TV. This story isn’t really about baseball at all, though.
Like I said, it was one of those nights. The highlight of the game was an almost home run (I have written letters to the pair of broadcasters praising their ability to remain engaged. Dickerson called my house to thank me for the letter). As the game rolled on, Price made a little mistake, the sort that occur when you let your attention wonder for a second.
He incorrectly identified Orioles starting pitcher Matt Harvey as “Paul” Harvey, likely thinking of the late radio newsman and columnist. I won’t say that’s unusual. Price has done it before and so has Dickerson; so did guys named Ernie Harwell and Paul Carey. Everybody is going to make that sort of mistake, as there are so many games and so many names.
It so happened that Matt (Not Paul) Harvey had a very good day. Having made adjustments after recent losses, he pitched a good game against the Tigers and Price felt he deserved to be singled out for praise at the end of his outing but called him Paul again. Miss Kitty caught my eye, we’d both heard it. Price had made the same mistake twice.
There was a moment of silence, not at all uncommon in a pastoral game such as this, and a shuffle of paper that extended it from a moment to a beat. Price cleared his throat and confidently said, “Yes sir, that Matt Harvey had a heckuva day.”
It was just a moment in an otherwise meaningless game. The Tigers are still on their way up and the Orioles are spinning their wheels in another division. But there was another team in attendance that night, up in a booth sitting in front of microphones. There’s just two of them, but Dan had Jim’s back.
Sometimes, a teammate will make an error, but another teammate will pick it up and throw it. They’ll pat the poor fella on the back and tell him not to worry about it. There’s another opportunity tomorrow and always a chance that it will be a perfect game.
In a world where there is a screen at the end of everyone's arm, you sure can learn a lot on the radio.
Love!
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