Holy Cow! I'll Miss You, Scooter
Growing up, I was a die hard Yankee fan. Over the course of an entire season, maybe I missed five games a year. My life literally revolved around the Yankees. And they weren't even that good. But it didn't matter. As long as I could watch Mattingly, Righetti, Winfield and the rest of the boys - and listen to Phil Rizzuto call the action - I was set.
So hearing the news today that Rizzuto passed away makes me more than a little sad. He was as much a staple of my childhood as school, playing Little League and tormenting my sister. I learned much of what I know about baseball just by listening to him anchor Yankees coverage.
Now, make no mistake, he wasn't the greatest play by play guy ever. He made a lot of mistakes; told weird stories; sometimes even forgot how many outs there were or a certain rule about the game. And he used to leave around the 7th inning so he could beat the traffic. That's not a lie; he really left the games early to enjoy a faster drive home.
But like Harry Caray, that's what made him so great. He wasn't perfect. And he didn't care. He was just being himself. Like when he would say "hi" to his friends watching the game in Florida - even though the games weren't broadcast there - or talk about all the great Italian food he had last night. And his signature call "Holy Cow" was a classic. It even made it onto an episode of Seinfeld. And that's when you know you're golden.
By the way, his voice can also be heard during Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" as a young couple in the back seat debate whether they should "hit a home run."
I know this may sound a little corny, but I remember watching Yankee games with my dad and listening to Rizzuto. My dad and I would laugh as the Scooter would embark on yet another ridiculous story without a solid ending. I think I appreciated the stories a little more than my dad did. He didn't always see the humor in good ole' Scooter. But at least it was something we could share. And for that, I am thankful.
So, thanks, Mr. Rizzuto for making my childhood that much more special. Thanks for the funny stories; the awkward moments when you'd forget what the infield fly rule was; and for helping make nights with my dad a great experience. You will be missed.
But I guess it was your time to go. A little early perhaps, but in time to beat the traffic.
