4: Thursday, September 25 vs Cubs
Listen closely, ladies and gentlemen, to the following recording:
From beautiful Shea Stadium in Flushing, New York, the New York Mets are on the air.
That was the very first sentence ever spoken on a home team radio broadcast from this building. The second sentence from that momentous occasion tells you everything you need to know about whom we are proud to honor via the removal of number 4 in our Countdown Like It Oughta Be:
Well hi everybody, this is Bob Murphy with Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner, all set to detail every exciting moment of the historic opening of Shea Stadium as the New York Mets meet the Pittsburgh Pirates.
That, in two sentences, is the sound of home, the sound of the home team, the sound of Shea Stadium.
You didn't need to be at Shea to hear that voice, the voice of Bob Murphy; nor did you need to buy a ticket to hear the voices who joined him on April 17, 1964, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner. These three sons of Oklahoma and Tennessee and California formed a brotherhood and bridged the gap from the ballpark in Queens to the Mets fan who, for whatever reason, couldn't be here. They painted the word picture of the first Shea Stadium opener, just as they did at the Polo Grounds, just as they would do on the road. They did it, no matter that they came from elsewhere, as true New York icons.
They did it together and they did it forever. Or so it seemed.
From 1962 through 1978 — a mind-boggling, heartwarming seventeen seasons of balls and strikes, wins and losses, ups and downs, missteps and miracles and always, you just knew, another Mets game — they did it brilliantly. The trio of Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner was beloved, of course. They were rightly celebrated, famous far and wide and esteemed in the ears of all of their colleagues around baseball. But did you, the loyal Mets fan, realize that when you listened to Bob and Linsdey and Ralph that you were part of history, as much a part of history as any of the 50,312 in attendance for Shea's first game? You were listening to the broadcasting triumvirate that endured as a three-man team longer than any in the annals of Major League Baseball.
If you grew up a Mets fan between 1962 and 1978, you never knew there could be another announcer. You didn't need another announcer. You had the three best in the world. You had the home team.
Nothing lasts forever, we know. The trio broke up at last after 1978 when Lindsey Nelson left for the West Coast. Other announcers, fine announcers, came and filled in. Other voices would weave themselves into the Met tapestry. But there was something about those first three that made them forever the home team at Shea Stadium.
Fortunately for Mets fans, the rest of the team stayed intact. Ralph Kiner and Bob Murphy may have taken on different roles for most of the quarter-century that followed Lindsey Nelson's departure; Ralph was television, Murph radio. But there was no doubt they defined home for the Mets as much as Shea did, as much as any player could have. When you dropped by Kiner's Korner or you reveled in the Happy Recap, you knew you were nowhere but at a Mets game. It was as if you had come to Shea for the day after all and were, as the song promised, guaranteed to have the time of your life.
“Plenty of good seats still available,” Bob and Lindsey and Ralph used to remind the motorists who might be tooling by on the Grand Central. Yet, we can now say without fear of undermining walkup sales, there was no better seat at Shea than the seat closest to the speaker of your radio or your television between 1962 and 1978. Taking in a ballgame with Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner was an experience not to be topped — only repeated into blissful perpetuity.
Lindsey passed away in 1995. We lost Murph in 2004. Ralph, thankfully, remains with us to this day. You have heard him on SNY in 2008 as you heard him on Channel 9 decade after decade; as you heard him on Opening Day in 1964 over WHN radio; as you heard him narrate the Mets' birth, the Mets' youth and the Mets' maturity as the Mets and you grew up in tandem.
Ralph Kiner, we know your Korner originated in left field at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh where you established your Hall of Fame credentials, but for tonight, we beg your indulgence as we ask you, Bob's wife Joye Murphy and Lindsey's daughter Nancy Nelson Wyszynski to pile into the backseat of our 1964 Cadillac convertible — what else for a home run hitter? — and be chauffeured out to right field by two of your most faithful protégés, Gary Cohen and Howie Rose. Number 4 was your number in your playing career and number 4 is for you to represent once more — for you; for your Hall of Fame broadcasting partner and brother Bob Murphy; for your Hall of Fame broadcasting partner and brother Lindsey Nelson; and for your family of an audience, the incalculable millions who joined you at Shea from wherever they sat year after year, whether you could hear them or not.
They sure heard you.
Number 5 was revealed here.
Number 3 will be counted down next Monday, June 16.
Fantastic. Great touch to have them chauffeured by Howie and Gary.
I can probably list a few announcers I'd like to see run over on the way to right field. “Watch that car run! My ribcage is gonna be rrrrrrrockin tonight! It's not really the weight of the car or the steel frame that does the damage, it's the tracks each tire leaves across your chest that's the most effective. Hey, don't forget to show up at my hospital room this weekend! Bring the kids and join myself and Tim McCarver at New York Hospital Queens for all the action of the EKG meter! For information, just log onto nyhq-dot-cooooooommmmmmmm“
I miss hearing Bob Murphy. To me, he will always be the voice of the Mets and no one can ever replace him. When he died, a huge part of the Mets died.
And I hope everyone thought of watching the Puerto Rican Day Parade episode of Seinfeld yesterday (like I did), featuring Murph on the radio calling the Mets come back from an 8-0 deficit. That'll show the gang not to leave early.
And of course, the cherry on top of the episode: “Jerry, the Mets lost.”
Of course they did.
HI Greg,
Wonderful tribute and maybe a special mention should be made to those who did the early pre and post game radio shows: Howard Cosell, Marv Albert and Bob Brown.
Great job, Greg. That brought tears to my eyes. And ears, I guess.
That ep was elbowed out of syndication early on for its “very festive people” overtones, which annoyed me since it was the last regular episode of the series AND IT FEATURED MURPH! The pilot, of course, was full of Mets talk. Perfect bookends. (I haven't seen this ep in reruns since the “controversy,” but then again, I'm not keeping Seinfeld vigil much anymore.)
I loved how upset George, former Yankee employee, seemed when the Mets couldn't seal the comeback.
Nothing of note yesterday afternoon or evening in our commutation, but three years ago we were coming back from the city on the LIRR with some parade revelers. One of them had a snake…a real, live, BIG snake around his shoulders.
Tell me that isn't festive.
Greg,
You paint a pretty mean word picture yourself.
Well done, man. Well done…
That gave me goosebumps Greg. Kudos!
All the talk of the episode being pulled from syndication is ridiculous. I've seen it a bunch of times since then.
Unlike the classic NY episode of the Simpsons, which really didn't air on syndication after 9/11. It only lives on the Season 9 dvd.
“That's gotta hurt!”
Also, the festivity had nothing to do with the controversy. Everyone made a stink of Kramer accidentally burning the PR flag.
You're right about the flag business. My mistake. But I stand by the snake anecdote…while backing away from the snake itself.
It wasn't that great an episode, BUT IT HAD MURPH!!!
Perfect, partner.
(Comment posted via Ouija board. Because the Mets have finally killed me.)