Ernie Harwell

Thanks to Superfrankenstein for finding that transcript of Vin Scully saluting Ernie Harwell, the Tigers' broadcaster and icon since 1960. He was everything Vin said he was, and more.

Vin is now the last connection to the Golden Age of broadcasters. Soon our kids won't know what calling a good game sounds like, just like they don't know what a real apple tastes like.

I posted this on Bardball this morning. Ernie gave us our first site its plug in the press, and returned our postcard with a gracious note on it, as was typical. (For the geographically challenged, Paradise is the name of a town in the Upper Peninsula.)

Ernie Harwell

Now the Tigers’ voice has been quieted.
He saw teams that won, and fans that rioted.
He saw a man play in the bigs after jail.
He saw a boy pitching tell his baseball a tale.
He saw a flawed man win 31 games,
The careers of good men go up in flames.
He watched a beloved ballpark decay
And the City of Wheels fall by the way.
Yet he knew in the end it was only a game.
God’s plan ignores things like money and fame.
A bat’s just a branch, a mitt is just leather.
Baseball’s true worth is bringing people together.

Some night, when a hit curves decidedly foul,
We’ll hear a faint voice with a sweet Georgia drawl,
Say, chuckling with fathomless love for it all,
“A man from Paradise just caught that ball.”