In Memorium

“The Voice of God.”

“His death leaves a lasting silence.”

“Players changed year in and year out. He was the one constant.”

“A voice that you hear in your dreams; your sleep.”

“When you think of all the great players he has announced, when you think of the old stadium, there is no doubt you think about him and what he has done for the organization.”

“When you think of Bob Sheppard you think of all the tradition with the Yankees. You think about Ruth and Gehrig and Yogi and Joe D and Mantle, and I think you mention Bob Sheppard.”

“The most distinguished and dignified voice in all of professional sports.”

“There will never be another like him.”

“Every time he says my name, I get goose bumps.” (To which Sheppard replied softly, “Mickey, so do I.”)

His own words: “A PA announcer is not a cheerleader or a circus barker, or a hometown screecher. He’s a reporter.”

Forgive a small departure from my promised format. Any blog devoted to anything related to baseball would be remiss to not take a moment to appreciate one of baseball’s greats. For those of you who have not heard Bob Sheppard’s voice, go to EPN or YouTube and find it; it is truly, as Reggie Jackson said, “the Voice of God.”

Much has been said and written about Sheppard’s career, his approach, his civility and his eloquence. This will not pretend to be those things. This is simply a moment to remember a legend. Bob Sheppard announced three perfect games in Yankee stadium. He announced the names of over 70 Hall of Famers. He announced 62 World Series games, and 121 straight post season games.

He was there for Mickey Mantle’s debut, and finale. He was there for Larson’s perfect game in the ’56 World Series. He was there for the three-peat in ’98, ’99, and ’00. He was there when Roger Maris hit his 61ist home run – he was there when Reggie Jackson hit three on three swings in the ’77 World Series.

He lasted so long in his post that fathers, sons, and grandsons all well up from familiarity at the sound of his voice. He is the only non-player recognized with a plaque in Yankee Stadium’s Monument Park.

One can only hope that Sheppard’s immortalization in that revered alter in baseball’s Great Cathedral will buy him a ticker to whatever form of speech and baseball heaven he desires. I hope he has found his way to a place where he can “be clear, be concise, be correct” and witness an afterlife ballgame worth his illustrious run.

Sheppard said towards the end of his life “I don’t go to work . . . I go to a ballgame.” Here’s hoping that’s where you end up, Mr. Sheppard.