CiclaValley’s Tribute to Vin Scully

For, lo, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
The time of the singing of birds is come,
And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.

These words were never spoken to my knowledge by Vin Scully, but it sounds like something he would have said.

Vin has been so elegantly melodic and pastoral that he could put words to any moment and you’d be completely riveted.

There might not be anyone ever like him again.

In a world where sharp opinions and ideologies are shared in 140 characters or less, Vin would take us on journeys that never mattered if it ended or not.

Though Vin has style, grace and charm, none of that would have mattered unless he loved so much.

As his 67th season closed, he reiterated that he needed us more than we needed him.

That’s a hard statement to take as this man has brought a cohesiveness been fans, friends and families for generations, but the more I saw him repeat it, the more I believed it.

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I circled the last home game of the year on the calendar.

Having a three year old, I thought it would be a special memory to go to the game as a family, but having to gain her interest for 3+ hours seemed like a bridge too far.

Instead, I was content on recording the game and catching up later in the evening.

I planned on going to Josef Bray-Ali’s Pool Party to support his candidacy for the council seat in District 1.

My daughter is just getting into swimming and she loves anytime in the water, so it was a perfect fit.

As the afternoon moved on, I turned on the TV as we were getting ready to go(car free!) somewhere around the 7th inning.

Hearing the game on, CV Jr. came down next to me to start watching it with me.


She doesn’t know much about baseball, but there’s something about sitting down with your child and explaining the game as it happens.

It happened to be in the 9th inning and Colorado took the lead over the nearly impenetrable Kenley Jansen leaving the boys in blue in a significant hole to tie the game.

Somewhere in the bottom of the inning, my daughter walked in and down to their final out, Corey Seager launched a rocket to tie the game.

Just as everyone hoped, Vin Scully would be getting overtime.

I had been asking CV Jr. this whole time to go to this pool party, but she really wanted to spend time with her dad on the couch.

How could I say no?

The Dodgers ended up winning the following inning by another unlikely hero and my daughter gave me high fives to add to the celebration.

All the players stormed the field and TV cut to a quick break, but Vin ended the game like any other without any extracurricular pomp and circumstance.

There had to be more.

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At the start of every season, that poem at the top of this article were recited by Ernie Harwell, announcer of the Detroit Tigers.

My dad grew up listening to Ernie and just like me, he was equally blessed.

For years, I was fortunate to listen to Tiger’s broadcasts online thanks to the earlier east coast starting time which I took advantage of while I was working.

It was a link to my father’s past and as a family, brought us together.

Mr. Harwell, as I normally refer to him, had much in common with our beloved Vin.

Both had this familial charm like an elder telling eloquent stories one after another.

They also share a flawless cadence that made every word sound like a symphony.

You may be watching television, but you felt like you were spending family time in your living room.

There were differences.

Mr. Harwell was from Georgia and had this impeccable southern charm.

For example, whenever someone hit a foul, Ernie would name the locale of the person who caught it.

“That ball was caught by the gentleman from Walla Walla.”

Sure, he had no idea where the person was from, but it was details like this that were accepted and gave his broadcasts exceptional richness.



This bobblehead and other Ernie Harwell memorabilia grace the CiclaValley homestead.

Unlike Vin, he worked with a partner in his booth, but it was great to have his folksiness play off another.

Ernie worked with the Tigers for 32 seasons before shockingly being let go by the organization by Michigan legend and Tigers president Bo Schembechler.

Imagine Vin Scully ever being fired?

A year later, a new owner stepped in and  Ernie returned to the organization to do another ten years before retiring ten seasons later always mentioning spending the remainder of his days with his loving wife Lulu.

In 2009, he made a heartbreaking return to the field addressing the crowd to say his final farewell sharing he had contracted bile cancer.

Mr. Harwell died six months later at the age of 92.

Everyday they both went to the booth, you could absorb how blessed they felt for having this opportunity.

I’m just glad to have been a part of it.

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We hadn’t moved from the coach when the broadcast returned.

Dodgers manager Dave Roberts was being interviewed as the on-field celebration began, but this was no average division clinching ceremony.

The team’s attention was turned to the broadcast booth and for the last time at Dodger Stadium, Vin Scully was handed a microphone.

He took the time to say goodbye to fans he so dearly loves only in the gracious way Vin Scully can.

I couldn’t keep a dry eye and my daughter leaned up to hug and console me as I was riveted to these final words.

Once again, he told us how he needed us more than we needed him.

Baseball has been Vin’s life even before he began his 67 year tenure with the Dodgers.

Not only has he captured the heart of all fans, but also this city.

No one will every be more beloved in Los Angeles than Vin Scully.

To live a life where you’re revered by every person you meet is a reality none of us will ever know.

Vin got to live it.