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This was a really great column by Canepa
There is an obvious choice. Only one voice truly can replace Dick Enberg.
Dick Enberg.
And Dick apparently isn’t interested in replacing himself. It may not be fair, but his successor will be Gene Bartow following John Wooden.
It’s inevitable that somebody must supplant the insupplantable. For me, in my profession, nobody could replace Red Smith and Jim Murray, but it doesn’t mean I don’t read the better columnists anymore.
And so we’re about to come to the end of a very brief era, but a very important one for the Padres. Dick Enberg, who has announced the 2016 season will be his last as their TV voice, has classed up this joint. Dick Enberg, all coat, tie and pocket hankie, is a famous brand, a fine piece of historic broadcasting jewelry, a crown jewel the baseball organization smartly put around its neck in 2009, always knowing it wouldn’t be wearing it for long.
Dick is 80 now. So what if he isn’t what he was? Who is? But Enberg, like few others of his craft – Howard Cosell, Vin Scully, Ray Scott, Chick Hearn and Al Michaels immediately come to mind – have that rare gift. Whatever they’re calling makes that event bigger than it is.
Dick still has that. I cannot watch a Padres game without thinking: I’m listening to Dick Enberg. When I read Dickens, I never mistake him for James Patterson.
The irony is that 2016 probably will be the 9th inning for both Dick and Vin, each an indelible part of my youth, Scully being the first, when the Dodgers (despite my hating them) moved to Los Angeles in 1958, followed by the irrepressible Hearn when the Lakers went Hollywood.
“Going out arm and arm with Vin; who would have thought that?” Enberg was saying Thursday afternoon.
Enberg always has known where he is. And more important, he has let us in, allowing us to get a peek of how he sees it and writes it with his voice. He is a master storyteller, which critics easily forget if he misses a call now and then, as if we’re all perfect. He gives us something we can’t easily find. If you care to, you learn something from him, learn it every night. I can think of no greater gift for a caller of games.
Dick is the most decorated sportscaster in history, honored by baseball, football and basketball halls of fame, which is proper, because he’s the best all-around announcer we’ve known. He can giddy-up a church social.
But the time is right. In a very short period of time, he has lost a daughter and younger brother and sister. There are things he wants to do. Not all the boxes on his bucket list have been checked.
“I watched them decay away,” he said. “Birth is so wonderful and death is so hard to absorb. All of a sudden you’re not alive anymore.
“This will give me a soft landing. I’ll still be coming to the ballpark; I’ll still have something to do. I’m still Pollyanna enough to believe the Padres will win a World Series in my lifetime. And there was going to come a time when age was going to get me.”
And it’s obvious, if you listen to him call games – and as I was listening to him Thursday – baseball, although it still excites, has become much more frustrating for him, with the indecisiveness of umpires and replay adding to the length of games. That’s not the sole reason why he’s getting out, but it’s greasing the skids.
“It’s both painful and perplexing, to a lot of people, including the fans” he said. “You’ve got to swallow hard. I love this game but they’re screwing it up.”
He can remember a simpler and more innocent time, as can I. But he still works his butt off before he paints his pictures.
“Preparation is the No. 1 thing I’ve learned from Dick,” his on-air sidekick Mark Grant was saying. “He says baseball is in his DNA. Teaching (Enberg was a college professor) is in his DNA. A teacher has to be more prepared than his students (which Enberg admits was a fear). At first, I was intimidated by him. But I love the guy.”
No regrets for Dick.
“None. I’ve led a privileged life,” he said. “No drumrolls and trumpets. And I’m still going to be around.”
The great voices are the most difficult to silence.
sezme.godfather@gmail.com Twitter: @sdutCanepa
There is an obvious choice. Only one voice truly can replace Dick Enberg.
Dick Enberg.
And Dick apparently isn’t interested in replacing himself. It may not be fair, but his successor will be Gene Bartow following John Wooden.
It’s inevitable that somebody must supplant the insupplantable. For me, in my profession, nobody could replace Red Smith and Jim Murray, but it doesn’t mean I don’t read the better columnists anymore.
And so we’re about to come to the end of a very brief era, but a very important one for the Padres. Dick Enberg, who has announced the 2016 season will be his last as their TV voice, has classed up this joint. Dick Enberg, all coat, tie and pocket hankie, is a famous brand, a fine piece of historic broadcasting jewelry, a crown jewel the baseball organization smartly put around its neck in 2009, always knowing it wouldn’t be wearing it for long.
Dick is 80 now. So what if he isn’t what he was? Who is? But Enberg, like few others of his craft – Howard Cosell, Vin Scully, Ray Scott, Chick Hearn and Al Michaels immediately come to mind – have that rare gift. Whatever they’re calling makes that event bigger than it is.
Dick still has that. I cannot watch a Padres game without thinking: I’m listening to Dick Enberg. When I read Dickens, I never mistake him for James Patterson.
The irony is that 2016 probably will be the 9th inning for both Dick and Vin, each an indelible part of my youth, Scully being the first, when the Dodgers (despite my hating them) moved to Los Angeles in 1958, followed by the irrepressible Hearn when the Lakers went Hollywood.
“Going out arm and arm with Vin; who would have thought that?” Enberg was saying Thursday afternoon.
Enberg always has known where he is. And more important, he has let us in, allowing us to get a peek of how he sees it and writes it with his voice. He is a master storyteller, which critics easily forget if he misses a call now and then, as if we’re all perfect. He gives us something we can’t easily find. If you care to, you learn something from him, learn it every night. I can think of no greater gift for a caller of games.
Dick is the most decorated sportscaster in history, honored by baseball, football and basketball halls of fame, which is proper, because he’s the best all-around announcer we’ve known. He can giddy-up a church social.
But the time is right. In a very short period of time, he has lost a daughter and younger brother and sister. There are things he wants to do. Not all the boxes on his bucket list have been checked.
“I watched them decay away,” he said. “Birth is so wonderful and death is so hard to absorb. All of a sudden you’re not alive anymore.
“This will give me a soft landing. I’ll still be coming to the ballpark; I’ll still have something to do. I’m still Pollyanna enough to believe the Padres will win a World Series in my lifetime. And there was going to come a time when age was going to get me.”
And it’s obvious, if you listen to him call games – and as I was listening to him Thursday – baseball, although it still excites, has become much more frustrating for him, with the indecisiveness of umpires and replay adding to the length of games. That’s not the sole reason why he’s getting out, but it’s greasing the skids.
“It’s both painful and perplexing, to a lot of people, including the fans” he said. “You’ve got to swallow hard. I love this game but they’re screwing it up.”
He can remember a simpler and more innocent time, as can I. But he still works his butt off before he paints his pictures.
“Preparation is the No. 1 thing I’ve learned from Dick,” his on-air sidekick Mark Grant was saying. “He says baseball is in his DNA. Teaching (Enberg was a college professor) is in his DNA. A teacher has to be more prepared than his students (which Enberg admits was a fear). At first, I was intimidated by him. But I love the guy.”
No regrets for Dick.
“None. I’ve led a privileged life,” he said. “No drumrolls and trumpets. And I’m still going to be around.”
The great voices are the most difficult to silence.
sezme.godfather@gmail.com Twitter: @sdutCanepa
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