With Vin Scully set to retire this week after 67 years calling Dodgers games, we dug through our archives and found this column that Jamie Campbell wrote in 2009 about the one time Scully called him.
Vin Scully, on the strength of his wife’s blessing, will return for a 60th year in 2009. If you’re a baseball aficionado, it might be wise to set the PVR on one of his broadcasts next season and put it in the archives.
My brief association with Scully has taught me one very valuable lesson: When answering the phone, be polite at all times.
Here’s why.
In June of 2007, I huddled with Scully when the Blue Jays visited Dodger Stadium. In the spirit of seeking advice from the master, I asked him if I could jot down a few questions as the summer progressed and send them his way. He kindly obliged.
So, soon after, I put pen to paper, added a phone number at the bottom, and dropped a letter in the mail.
By mid-September, we were about to broadcast a game in Detroit. Every broadcast comes with a pre-game meeting three hours in advance, so anyone who knows me knows never to call three hours before a game. Just as the meeting was about to get underway, my cell-phone rang:
“Hello”, I asked, somewhat annoyed that I hadn’t turned the darn thing off.
“Jamie. It’s Vin Scully.”
Now, by this time, I’d long forgotten writing the letter. Even a mention of the man’s name failed to jog my memory. In truth, the first fleeting thought was ‘Why on earth would Vin Scully call me?’ Completely disbelieving, I was, instead:
A) Under the assumption the caller was actually my wife’s uncle, who occasionally phones with a disguised voice, and;
B) Extremely irritated my wife’s uncle had interrupted an important meeting.
“What do you want?” Asked the crusty Blue Jay broadcaster.
“Did I call at a bad time,” said the person claiming to be Scully.
“Yeah, you did. I’m in a meeting.”
I had barely exhaled those biting and bitter words when it dawned on me. This isn’t my wife’s uncle. This really is Vin Scully.
“Mr. Scully! Is that you?” I screamed into the phone.
“Yes.”
Suddenly, my throat got dry and my stomach began emitting that unique sensation that used to arise when your parents caught you swearing.
“Oh my gosh Mr. Scully! I am so sorry. I am soooo sorry. I thought you were my wife’s crazy uncle!”
Thankfully, Vin was gracious and accepting, suggesting that kind of thing happens – to him – all the time. I bet it does.
The man is a legend, and has long been one of my favourites. For goodness sake, he called Don Larsen’s perfect game! So, to make myself feel better, I sat down the very next day and wrote an old-fashioned letter of apology.
So, here’s to you, Mr. Scully. I’m thrilled you’re coming back for another year. And, in the event you didn’t get my letter, allow me to close by saying, yet again… I am soooo sorry!
