Remembering Harry the K

The death of Harry Kalas touched the entire baseball world, not just Philadelphia. Proof of that came when RomanWarHelmet, the resident Mets fan at Major League Jerk, asked me to write up a short tribute on Harry Kalas for the site. Here's the link, and I've reposted it below. Still can't believe he's gone.

Some of you may know me. Some of you may not. I go by the name of Reverend Paul Revere, proprietor of The House That Glanville Built, and I am Phillies fan. Spend two seconds and the site, and you know I live and die with the Phillies. Well today, a little piece of me died with the passing of Harry Kalas, and one of the few Mets fans I know and respect, RomanWarHelmet, asked me if I’d like to write something on the passing of Harry Kalas. I thank him for the opportunity. I just hope my words can do justice to a man that I will miss dearly.



The photo above is the Philadelphia Phillies radio/television broadcast team I grew up with as a child through the mid-80s and early 90s on. From left to right, they are Richie Ashburn, Andy Musser, Harry Kalas and Chris Wheeler. They are the men I grew up listening to. They taught me as much about baseball as my father did, as any coach did. It was an all-star crew, and the standouts were by far former Phillies great and Hall of Fame centerfielder Richie “Whitey” Ashburn and Harry Kalas, who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame as an announcer in 2002.

The friendship between Ashburn and Kalas is the thing that stood out from my childhood. It was like two best friends who grew up in the neighborhood were watching the game together and having the same conversations they would when they were 16, only with a lot more baseball knowledge than the average fan emanating through the television screen. When Whitey died in 1997, it would have been perfectly understandable if Harry lost some of his passion, some of his joy of calling Phillies games. But he never did. Not once.

When I think of the Philadelphia Phillies, the first person who comes to mind is Harry Kalas. And I’m not saying that because he just died. It’s true. It always has been. Harry Kalas is synonymous with the Phillies. He’s more famous, more recognizable to Philadelphians than any player, and God knows how much Philadelphians know and recognize players, good and bad. His call of Mike Schmidt’s 500th home run is one of the greatest calls of all time. And his patented, “Swing and a long drive. Watch this baby, OUTTA HERE!” on home runs is just classic. Truly classic. It makes me sad that I’ll never hear that again.

The thing about Harry is he was more than just a broadcaster. He was sort of the grandfather of the Phillies for my generation. He wasn’t a journalist, per se. He was a fan who rooted for the Phillies with every call, but never allowed it to affect the way he called the game. He simply called it as he saw it. And with each word, you knew he truly loved it.

One of my prized possessions is the Harry Kalas/Richie Ashburn bobblehead that was passed out at Veterans Stadium after he was inducted into the Hall of Fame.



I remember the game like it was yesterday. The Phillies were playing the Cardinals, and before the game, Harry was driven around the warning track in a convertible, and Scott Rolen, who had recently left Philadelphia in a trade to the Cardinals and was not well-liked by the fans of Philadelphia at the time, was not in lineup. He had no reason to show his face in order to get booed by the Phillies fans. But when that convertible pulled up outside the Cardinals’ dugout, Scott Rolen came flying out to open the door for Kalas. Of course, once Rolen emerged, the boos rained down, but that’s how much Harry Kalas means to the players who had the honor of Harry Kalas calling their names. Boos be damned, Scott Rolen was going to show Harry Kalas just how much he loved him, respected him, no matter what. That speaks volumes itself.

From the “Mitchy Poo” to “Mickey Morandini” to “Chase Utley, YOU ARE THE MAN!”, Harry Kalas brought a smile to every Phillies fan’s, player’s, employee’s face. He was more than a broadcaster. He was a friend. Even if you never met him. In 1993, when the Phillies made a magical run to the World Series, he sang high hopes in the clubhouse with the team going wild. The players truly loved him, accepted him as one of the guys. Last year, he called the final out of the World Series, as the Phillies became World Champions in his final full season.



Those words will live with me forever. Last Wednesday, I was in attendance at Citizens Bank Park as Harry Kalas threw out the first pitch before the ring ceremony. Forever, I can say I was there when Harry Kalas threw out his final first pitch. I’m glad I did.

Love the Phils or hate the Phils, it was impossible to hate Harry Kalas. He was a lovable guy, a great announcer and a person who loved baseball as much as a human possibly can. For those of us that love the Phils, we love Harry Kalas. My cousin summed it up best in a text message he sent me after he heard the news:

He’s back with whitey and he got one more world series and got to broadcast with his son. I feel like a family member died.

That’s exactly how every Phillies fan feels, like a family member just died. In a way, one did. Watching and listening to Phillies games will just never, ever be the same. I love Harry Kalas. I will miss Harry Kalas. But I am incredibly happy I had to opportunity to grow up listening to Harry Kalas.

And I know, just like my cousin said, he’s up there in heaven right now, shooting the breeze with Whitey, calling another classic.