Ernie Harwell is dead.

[sealybobo]

I don't know if you people who don't live in Michigan know who this is, but he was a great man. He was the voice of Detroit Tigers Baseball.

Former Tigers broadcaster Harwell dies - The Globe and Mail

 

[Paulie]

We lost Harry Kalas last year, and even though I don't have a problem with the new play by play guy, it just doesn't sound the same watching the game.

For true fans, it's like you lost a piece of you.

My condolences.

 

[tigerbob]

Ernie had been the voice of the Tigers since before I was born. Everyone had been expecting this for some time, ever since his farewell appearance at Comerica Park last season after the fact that he had cancer was revealed publicly. I'm glad he got to see the start of one more season.

My first real experiences of Tigers baseball are inextricably linked to my memories of Kirk Gibson going from first to third on a single, Tram and Lou turning a double play, and Ernie's gentle southern accent.

I still remember his voice echoing round old Tiger stadium on midweek night games. Some of his calls will stay with those who heard them for the rest of their lives.....

On home runs: "That one is looooooooong goooooooone".

On foul balls hit into the crowd: "And a young man from (insert city name) will take that one home".

On called third strikes: "Called out for excess window shopping" or "He stood there like a house by the side of the road and watched it go by".

On double plays "Two for the price of one"

On the first broadcast of Spring Training every year: "For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land".

I am deeply saddened, more so even than I thought I would be.

God bless, Ernie, and thanks.

 

[tigerbob]

I wrote this a few years ago. Now seems the right time to post it.

Looking back through the years to days way back when, we have so many memories to treasure
Of great Tiger teams that our parents knew well and the thoughts of which still give us pleasure.
So just one more time let us turn our thoughts back to the place where those greats would assemble.
Men like Ty Cobb and Gehringer, Kaline and Kell, at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

A few beers early in the Batters Box bar, then the walk 'cross the road to the turnstiles,
Gazing up at the big Tiger Stadium sign would turn anyone's sadness to smiles.
Then across Tiger Plaza and on up the ramps where, with sunglasses on, you might stumble -
For it's dark as the underworld under the stands at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

Emerging from darkness the emerald green bluegrass was the first thing you'd see when you entered.
Three forty to left field, three twenty five to right, and that flagpole, four forty, in center.
You'd be transported back to a different age, it was easy to feel very humble
The first time you saw that cathedral of baseball at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

From a seat up in bleacher beach, sun cream in hand, it was just the most beautiful sight.
Or for something more shady then nowhere was better than the upper deck overhang in right.
Vendors with sodas and 3 kinds of beer, and then if your stomach should rumble
You could feast on steamed hot dogs, the best in the world, at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

The pop as the first pitch was caught for a strike would echo to all parts of the stands.
In brilliant white uniforms with old English D's, Detroit's boys of summer, and their fans.
And as a ball was popped foul for a fan's souvenir you might hear Ernie Harwell's voice grumble
"And a young man from Lansing will take that one home" from the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

But the memories are fading now, like the blue paint, and one day they tore it all down.
When the Tigers had moved to Comerica Park, and they played no more baseball in Corktown.
But we'll always remember with fondness and pride, even now the old ballpark has crumbled
All our heroes and the pennants and rings that they won at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.

 

[Bfgrn]

Goodbye Ernie...our loss; but Hank Greenberg, George Kell, Ty Cobb, Eddie Mathews, Charlie Gehringer and Mickey Cochrane will be really happy to see you.

On August 2, 1981, in Cooperstown, New York, on the porch of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, Ernie Harwell gave the following memorable induction day speech.

Excerpt:
Ernie Harwell Hall of Fame Induction Day Speech - August 2, 1981

"That's baseball." - Ernie Harwell
Baseball is the President tossing out the first ball of the season and a scrubby schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from the corner of his dugout. That's baseball. And so is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running home one of his (Babe Ruth's) 714 home runs.

There's a man in Mobile who remembers that Honus Wagner hit a triple in Pittsburgh forty-six years ago. That's baseball. So is the scout reporting that a sixteen year old pitcher in Cheyenne is a coming Walter Johnson. Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is seen and cheered, or booed. And then becomes a statistic.

In baseball democracy shines its clearest. The only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rulebook. Color merely something to distinguish one team's uniform from another.

Baseball is a rookie. His experience no bigger than the lump in his throat as he begins fulfillment of his dream. It's a veteran too, a tired old man of thirty-five hoping that those aching muscles can pull him through another sweltering August and September. Nicknames are baseball, names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.

Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby. The flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, an over aged pixie named Rabbit Maranville.

Baseball just a game as simple as a ball and bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion.

Why the fairy tale of Willie Mays making a brilliant World's Series catch. And then dashing off to play stick ball in the street with his teenage pals. That's baseball. So is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying., "I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

Baseball is cigar smoke, hot roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, ladies day, "Down in Front", Take Me Out to the Ball Game, and the Star Spangled Banner.

Baseball is a tongue tied kid from Georgia growing up to be an announcer and praising the Lord for showing him the way to Cooperstown. This is a game for America. Still a game for America, this baseball!

Thank you.

Source: National Baseball Hall of Fame Research Library.


The voice of summer
By Jim Caple -ESPN

 

[del]

he was the only broadcaster to be traded for a player. RIP, ernie, you'll be missed.

 

[rightwinger]

He is part of a dying breed....... The Vin Scully of Detroit

 

[sm232]

I listened to Ernie for years. I probably listened to him 100 times per year from age 10-20. He was a great announcer but an even greater man. R.I.P.