Today is Stan Laurel's birthday, born on July 16, 1890 in Ulverston, England.  So, I figured that that was as good a reason as any to post this appearance by Laurel and Hardy as the guests of honor on the This is Your Life program in 1954.

(On a totally personal note, which readers of these pages will at least understand, the "inside" person who Laurel and Hardy are visiting in his hotel room when they're surprised is a very young Bernard Delfont, later Lord Delfont a renowned theatrical producer in London.  I mention this because eight years after this broadcast, he produced my fave British musical, Pickwick, that starred my fave Harry Secombe.)

But this is about Laurel and Hardy, of course.  And a happy 127th.

As I've written here in the past, the wonderful Nell Minow wears many seemingly-incompatible hats.  Beyond being one the leading world experts on corporate governance, testifying before Congress on occasion, she also writes movie reviews, as The Movie Mom.  (Though the hats may be incompatible, it makes her very stylish.)

Well, as life would have it, she's been packing lately, and shuttering her Movie Mom site that's been hosted by Beliefnet, and moving her online work back to Chicago, electronically speaking and will now be writing for RogerEbert.com, officially as of today.  I don't know yet if she'll have her own section there, but for the moment she's busy unpacking her pencils and stash of Milk Duds, so we'll have to give her time meeting the other kids.  Updates as they occur.  Operators are standing by.

This new situation doesn't come wildly out of the blue.  Nell has a long history with Roger Ebert -- the fellow himself, not just the eponymous website.  She filled in for him once in a while, writing some guest reviews for his Chicago Sun-Times column, and was hired by Ebert as a correspondent on his last TV series.  So, it's sort of like old home week.  Just with the "week" being a whole lot more long-term.

So, hat's off!  No matter how seemingly-incompatible they may appear.

We don't have the same political views, but though he's a Republican he's from New Jersey, and is much more an East Coast Republican.  (If he lived in the Bible Belt, they might even consider him a damn liberal, though he's not, even remotely.)   We agree on quite a bit, though, and the reason he lost his re-election bid shows a lot about why that was and who he is as a person.  He pretty much lost for two reasons.  One is that he had two deeply formidable opponents -- a former mayor of Honolulu, and a former governor of Hawaii.  (The former governor won.)  And the other reason is because of a local issue.  Traffic in Honolulu had become extremely bad, and a rail system was needed.  A full plan had been put together, which Peter supported -- even though it would cost a lot of money and mean raising taxes.  He knew it risked being unpopular to support the rail system, most especially for a Republican, but he also knew it was necessary and knew it was coming -- if not now, eventually.  And he lost.  It's worth noting that the rail system is, in fact, still moving ahead, land is being bought for it, and it is on track (no pun intended) to be built, just as he said would be the case.

Since leaving office he's been been in private law practice as partner in a Honolulu law firm.  We don't see each other often, usually whenever he's had to come to the Los Angeles area on business.  We'd talk on the phone on rare occasion and periodic emails, but we've always stayed in touch.  A fond memory is going to a University of Hawaii football with Peter and his wife Judy, which by itself isn't that notable but what stands out is that it was on their wedding night -- Peter in his tux and Judy still in her white, flowing wedding gown.  (They had season tickets, and loved the games, so they weren't going to miss it.  And fortunately had an extra ticket.  And so, having gotten invited to join in, we all left the wedding party early.  I'll tell the full story another time.)

Peter is a hugely outgoing, friendly, goofy, nice, very smart, highly-industrious piece of work.  Even though much more laid-back than you'd think a mayor and four-time Chief Prosecutor of a city with nearly a million residents would be (hey, this is Hawaii, after all), he's still very driven and an exhausting person to be around for more than, oh, 30 minutes.  He was always that way.  And he was in Los Angeles not for 30 minutes, but two days.  Alone, with only me, no Judy as a buffer.  It was a great time, and utterly draining.

(They'd just had their first grandkid, and had gone to be with the new parents.  But after a while Peter was politely told to leave, he wasn't needed any more, go away.  Judy stayed to help out. To be clear, this was planned.  It wasn't like he suddenly made himself a nuisance and was ejected.  They just all knew beforehand that there was a limit to how long he should be around before getting in the way.  And rather than putter at home alone, and have to make-do there on his own, he was granted full dispensation to take an extended trip back to his old stomping ground of Los Angeles.)

To repeat, it was a great time, and utterly draining.

In fact, it was draining before it even started.  No, really, that's not hyperbole.  If you believe anything I write here, it must be that Peter Carlisle is a Force of Nature and exhausting.  

I had asked Peter to let me know his flight plans, so I could pick him up at LAX. I waited and waited, and the day before he was due in, still no call. I thought about checking with him, but figured he's a big boy and knew he was coming in and would contact me. And on the day he was due, indeed he did call. The problem is that the phone rang AT 5:45 IN THE MORNING!  "Hey, Bobbo!  Carlisle.  How's it going?!"  Just so you know, this isn't the first time he's done this.  He finds the three-hour time difference with Hawaii hilarious, and likes to occasionally take advantage of it for fun.  (Sorry, I mean, for "fun."  It's adorable, but only in concept.)  Anyway, I got his flight info and asked where he was staying, so I could check the map beforehand and figure out how best to get there.  He didn't know -- how on earth could a person not know what hotel he was staying at??  (I found out later how on earth that could be.  More on that later.)  But I told him to be sure to find out and call before I left to pick him up.  Okay, fine.  I joked with him a bit about the hour of the call, but said that I cut him some slack since 5:45 AM is still very early in Honolulu -- 2:45 AM.  At that point, he corrected me.  "Oh, no, I'm not in Honolulu.  I'm at O'Hare.  I was in Kentucky with Judy and the kids, but flew here after."  Oh.  So, it's normal time where you are, I said.  Oh, sure, he burst out with a laugh.  After a slight pause, I replied, "You just blew your airport pick-up."

I did pick him up, of course.  And no, he hadn't called with his hotel information before I left for the airport.  As he got in the car, though, I asked where his hotel was since I had maps and also a GPS to figure things out.  But he still didn't know.  It was in his suitcase, we could get it later after stopping for lunch.  Fine.  So, we went to lunch.  I knew he'd said a few weeks earlier that he wanted to stay in West L.A., where I had just come from, and we drove back there.  After lunch, we checked his suitcase -- and it turned out his hotel was...back at the airport!!  And so, we drove back there again, because he needed to check in and rest up a bit.  And I drove back, again, to West L.A.  And then drove back to the airport during rush hour to get him for dinner.  And he said he wanted to go to Santa Monica to see the ocean.  ("Oh," I said, "gee, if only you lived on an island surrounded by the Pacific Ocean, what an interesting choice of places to visit that would be."  His explanation was that he wanted to see the ocean from a different direction.  And it was a different color.)  Whatever the reason, we headed back to West L.A.  Again.  And then back to the airport for his hotel at the end of the evening.  After which, of course, back to West L.A. for me to go home.    Four round-trips to the airport in about nine hours.

Little did I know that this would be a sort of running theme during his stay.  It turns out that although he is a man of a great many skills, traveling on his own is not one of them.  And it was actually sort of amusing.

For instance, when we returned back to the hotel in the evening, and got on the elevator to go up to his room, I asked for his floor -- and he wasn't sure.  Mind you, this shouldn't have been a particular challenge since there were only four to choose from.  (Actually, just three since we were in the lobby...)  Eventually, he remembered that it was the third floor.  Huzzah.

Fine.  But when we got off the elevator, he started wandering around and checking each hallway corner, trying to figure out which was the correct way to go.  "I think it's this way..."  And then some more uncertain checking.  "Okay, wait, I think...hmm, it's...." -- and finally, after a few tentative turns, we did make it to the right direction.

Until he had to figure out his room.  He checked his key card...but of course those don't have room numbers on them, for security.  A concept Peter seemingly hadn't grasped after more than a decade.  But at least he came to his destination, "I think this is it," and put his card in the slot -- but no, it was wrong.  He thought a moment, looked around and then realized it was probably the room next door.  Maybe.  "This is it, I'm pretty sure," and again inserted his card -- but...yes, this was wrong, too.

As he moved down the hall, uncertain where his room was -- again, remember, this is the former mayor of Honolulu and four-time Chief Prosecuting Attorney, a man who personally tried the most high-profile risky cases himself and put numerous truly-vicious killers behind bars, I backed off in the opposite direction.  When he asked where I was going, I explained to him, "If you're wrong with the next room, too, I don't want to be standing in front of the door when the guest there comes barreling out in raging anger."  Happily, the third time was the charm, and his room was found!

In a rare expression of humility, Peter explained a full self-awareness of his shortcoming.  When traveling with his family for the past 30 years, his wife Judy is one of those massively-organized types who runs the household, "This is what we’re doing, this is how we’re doing it, go there," and on trips she handled everything and Peter just had to follow directions.  And because of his job for around the past 25 years – when he was Chief Prosecuting Attorney of Honolulu, and then when he was Mayor -- he’s always had an executive assistant who was responsible for everything with his business life:  where he was supposed to be, putting together his meetings, press conferences, public appearances, how he was supposed to get there, when he was supposed to have lunch, where to eat, managing his business trips, setting up transportation to the airport, everything.  Absolutely everything.  So, over time, between home and office, all this simply wasn’t a skill he needed, and so it withered on the vine and he lost this very basic ability, and he admitted being clueless about it.  He could run a city, he could keep the public protected from crime, even heinous crime -- but he couldn't remember where his hotel was.  Or his floor.  Or room.  It just wasn't something he'd had to do for a quarter century.

Since his wife was back visiting in Kentucky, and he was now in private practice, and he was on his own – no wife with him, no executive assistant – he was…basically lost.  Which brings us back to the 5:45 AM phone call.  He knew he had to call me, but the “when” didn’t matter.  It was convenient for him to call, so he called. 

Of course, Peter being Peter, he didn’t say any of this particularly self-effacingly (well, a little), or as him being “spoiled,” but more laughingly as matter-of-fact, that it's just the way my life has been, my schedule has been run for me and no reason for me to worry about the details, so I haven’t needed the skill.  He worried about the Big Picture, the major problems, the planning, the way issues interconnected, and was meticulous and accomplished about them -- while on the small things, like "Where's my room?", everyone else pointed him in the right direction.

It was sort of charming.  But exhausting.  Especially when combined with Peter's natural larger-than-life personality.  Along with his innate insistence on being right, even those times he's not -- it's an impressive political skill, learned over decades, and one it took a while for me to figure out.  But once I did, everything fell into place.  "So, in other words," I at last noted, after being blamed for another of his gaffes, "your position is basically, 'Why didn't you tell me not to run into traffic with my eyes closed, it's all your fault."  Exactly!, he said, laughing.  (The laughing was always there, it was never remotely over-bearing but good-natured -- yet, okay, you know the mantra now, exhausting.) 

He wanted to go back to the UCLA campus which he hadn't seen in several decades, and we wandered around, and also visited our old dorm, Hershey Hall.  But he wanted to see everything, and UCLA is a very big campus, so there was a lot of wandering.  And, "No, Peter, this way."  And of course, no, he had zero idea where the car was. "I hope you remembered where we parked."  Not a problem, I did, but it was fun to watch him bewildered.

As for the car, Peter being Peter is...how shall I put it? -- a really horrific back-seat driver.  He's been in charge for 25 years, why should that stop in a car?  To be very clear, Peter never expects to be agreed with -- his whole life has been debating, and he loves and fully respects being contradicted.  You just have to defend your position well, because he's fully prepared to challenge you back.  What I suspect, however, is that what he's not used to is people telling him off.  That probably hasn't happened much when you're Mayor and Chief Prosecuting Attorney.  But when someone has been your friend for decades, titles don't matter.  So, after one too many chidings about this and that and there's a red light and watch the turn, I finally let loose -- and I must admit it was quite a fine rant, one that repeatedly had the phrase, "Stop it already, just stop it, I've been driving you around for two days, including four trips to the airport, enough already, stop it," tossed in there quite a few times.  At least, Peter burst into laughter.  "So, you're basically saying if I don't shut up you'll throw me out of the car."  Yes, I replied, that's it.  He started laughing again, said, "Got it," and indeed stopped complaining.

To be clear, Peter is a joy.  He's a profoundly decent guy, funny, extremely smart, dynamic, caring, outgoing, fair-minded, and a pleasure.  And a force of nature who is exhausting.  I don't agree with him on everything, but everything is a joy with him.

Honolulu was lucky to have him in charge of so many important parts of the city for about 25 years.  And I was lucky to have him in town for two days, which is pretty much the limit when alone.

I look forward to his next visit, or me going back to Hawaii.  And next time, I will absolutely make sure that his wife Judy is with him.

​Over on Mark Evanier's website, he has a video here of a song performed by Michelle Nicastro, and some nice words on her.  As he points out, since most people won't likely recognize her name, she was a stage performer who passed away much-too-early a few years ago.  And he's quite right, she sings the bejeepers out of the song here, from a little-known musical.

I actually had reason once to cross paths with her quite a while ago.  There was a couple of years where I did some interviewing here in Los Angeles for Northwestern University -- the school would recruit alumni to volunteer to talk with local students who had applied to NU but couldn't make it to Evanston, Illinois, for an interview with the Admittance Department.  One year, Michelle Nicastro and her husband (who was also an actor and is now a successful producer) were part of the Alumni group doing the interviewing, as well.

I wish I could remember much about the encounter, though I do recall them both -- in fact, they are the only two who I do remember from that period.  It was pretty early in their careers.  I think they'd only been out of school for a couple of years, and I remember being impressed that they wanted to "give back" so soon after graduating. Most of the other volunteers had been graduated much longer.  What I also recall is how personable they were -- and how beautiful Michelle was.  And then a few years later, I saw her again...but this time from the audience.  I'd gone to see the touring company of Les Miserables, and when i opened the program, there she was in the cast.  She played the role of Eponine and -- not surprisingly -- sang the bejeepers out of the soaring ballad, "One My Own."  She was extremely talented, and appeared on Broadway, as well.

One other note about Michelle Castro.  You probably have seen her work and even will be able to remember the role she played.  If you've seen the movie, When Harry Met Sally, you'll recall at the very opening that the character of Harry is a student at Northwestern University, saying goodbye to his girlfiend for vacation break.   As they kiss, her friend Sally drives by to pick Harry up to share the car ride cross-country.  Michelle Nicastro played Harry's girlfiend. I always appreciated the whimsy that the scene took place at Northwestern.  Now, whether that was pure chance, or if perhaps she was a student there at the time and got cast when they filmed there, I don't know.  It would probably be easy to figure out, checking dates, but at the moment I'm happy to leave things as they are...

Check out her video on Mark's site.  By the way, he notes that the song she sings was from the musical, Smile.  You likely won't have heard of it, though it has a good pedigree.  The music is by Marvin Hamlisch, and the book and lyrics by Howard Ashman -- who had written such productions as Little Shop of Horrors, Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid.  But it only ran for 48 performances.  Smile is based on a little known, but wonderful film of the same name, a wry, charming and bitingly-satirical story that takes place at the California Young American Miss beauty contest.  The movie was written by Jerry Belson, who wrote a lot of episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show -- and it was directed by Michael Ritchie, which is notable for where it came in his body of work.  He made it in 1975, right after he had directed the great film The Candidate and immediately before directing The Bad News Bears.  So, clearly, this was his "wry, charming and bitingly-satirical" period.  So, Smile ​is worth checking out, as well...

Well, that's sure nice.

Readers of these pages will know well of my many references to my accomplished friend Nell Minow, and my occasional pieces (like here and here and also here) about her father, the eminently accomplished Newton Minow, the former chairman of the FCC under President Kennedy, who coined the now-famous phrased calling TV a "Vast Wasteland" and who helped create the first televised presidential debate between Kennedy and Nixon.  And who was the first political mentor back in Chicago for one of the young lawyers at his Sidley-Austin firm, a fellow named Barack Obama -- who later married another lawyer at the firm, Michelle Robinson.

It turns out that, today, President Obama has returned the favor.  And on a list of 21 recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, one of those named was Newton Minow.

The timing is good, given that Mr. Obama only had a few months to go in office.  And before all hell breaks loose.  So, it's nice to see some grace and sanity in the final act.

That one of President Obama's law school professors at Harvard was Martha Minow, another of Newt's daughters,and now president of Harvard Law, who had called her father to say he should hire this fellow named Barack Obama because he was one of the smartest students she'd ever taught, was perhaps a good point in Newton Minow's favor, as well.  

I know my dad would have been thrilled, too, since they were poker buddies, and one of my dad's patients, even occasionally still calling for medical advice after moving to Washington.

It's an auspicious list of medal recipients  Among those other 20 citizens who will have to share the spotlight with Newton Minow are Michael Jordan, Tom Hanks, Bruce Springsteen, Bill and Melinda Gates, architect Frank Gehry, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Robert Redford and several others...like Vin Scully, Robert DeNiro, Rear Admiral Grace Hopper, educator Eduardo Paron and more.

It is my hope that the eldest daughter of a recipient gets to give a speech at the event.

One thing I especially like about Phil (or Dr. Caputo, as I prefer to call him -- for reasons that are lost to history) is that because where he lives in Albany is reasonably close to Cooperstown, he tries every year to go to the annual Baseball Hall of Fame ceremonies.  So,  you know at the very least that his heart is in the right place, and his head is screwed on properly -- even when he tries to convince you otherwise.  I always look forward to his phone call from the festivities, as well as the photos he sends. But then, I always look forward to any photo from Phil, whether he sends it or otherwise.  His visits to Los Angeles are far too few, so you take what you can get.

And there's another reason this Lifetime Achievement honor is so wonderful.  Phil's father-in-law is the acclaimed Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist William Kennedy (who among many other things, wrote Ironweed, in his Albany series of novels).  And Phil always speaks of him with great pride and immense affection, regularly telling tales proudly over the years of the many honors his father-in-law has received.  It's just wonderful to have a conversation with Phil about awards and get the opportunity to make it about him.
​

Last week, I wrote about the full-day coverage that the Golf Channel gave to Arnold Palmer.  This included the wonderful memorial service, a great four-part documentary, a joyous film, Arnie & Me about his relationship with fans, and more.

I posted a link to the moving and charming eulogy that Jack Nicklaus gave at the memorial service, and said that there was one more that I wanted to post.  This is that.

It's by Arnold Palmer's grandson, Sam Saunders, who is himself an up-and-coming pro golfer, and who spoke on behalf of the family.  It's absolutely terrific.  While all the eulogies during the service were full lively stories and touching tales, they all came from the outside, no matter how close.  Sam Saunders' talk was unique, from the inside, telling about an Arnold Palmer that wasn't available to the rest of the world.  It is highly-worth watching.

I couldn't find a video of the speech alone, so this is the full memorial service.  You're certainly welcome to watch it all -- it's great -- though it's also a couple hours, and I doubt many will dive in.  But to get to Sam Saunders, just jump to the 38:30 mark.
​

Last week, on the day of the memorial service for Arnold Palmer, the Golf Channel spent almost the entire day on tribute broadcasting.  The centerpiece was airing the service itself -- as did ESPN -- but they also had several documentaries on Palmer.  One was four parts, I believe, called Arnie, and it was spectacular.  Magnificently done.  And about much more than golf, but other parts of his life that were just as meaningful and moving, including his monumental business endeavors (including, I had no idea, helping start the Golf Channel itself), charity work and building hospitals.  There was also an hour-long documentary, Arnie & Me, which was people re-telling their experiences crossing paths with Palmer.  I had intended to skip that -- as I had when it initially aired a year or so ago -- but I decided to check in.  And boy was I glad -- it was quite amazing.

The documentary had access to all these people, in part, because Palmer was just a Good Guy, concerned about fans he dealt with (always staying after and during tournaments to sign autographs for every single person who wanted one) that he kept every fan letter that had ever been sent to him!

It all was remarkable and powerfully moving.  The whole day, and catching up with the shows I recorded for later.  I always had known that Palmer had a good reputation and was well-liked.  I had absolutely no idea how much he was idolized by his fellow-golfers -- not shabby under any condition, but for someone considered among the all-time greatest players, that speaks volumes.  Oddly, only about a week before he passed away at the age of 87 did I have an inkling of how beloved he was by other plays: as I mentioned recently, I happen to be in the middle of reading the book, A Fine Walk Spoiled (a line by Mark Twain about golf) written by John Feinstein who followed pro golfers on the PGA tour for a year.  There's a section on Arnold Palmer, and it was there that I first had my eyes opened (why so belatedly, I have no idea) about how much other golfers adored him.  And then after watching hours and hours and hours of material from that tribute day, I'm so sorry it took me until now to find out -- but am I ever glad I did.

I can't describe all the stories that got covered (which is only a toe in the water), but two will stand out.  Oddly, since so many of the stories were of course from non-golfers, just "everyday folk" whose lives Palmer actually touched (including people who had babies delivered at the Winnie Palmer Hospital for Women & Babies in Florida where lives were saved -- because Palmer had seen the existing hospital and said, "We can do better"), these two stories were told by pro-golfers...but not about when they played, but when they were little children.  I choose them not because they're necessarily The Best Stories (though they're up there), but are indicative of so many others.

The first was former golfer, and later popular TV analyst Roger Maltbie.  When he was about 10 years old, he went to a tournament, but got separated from his parents and could find him.  During play, Arnold Palmer spotted him and asked what was wrong.  (That alone is impressive...)  When the little Maltbie told him, he said that Palmer replied, "Here, come with me.  When you're walking down the course with me, your parents are sure to spot you."  And no long after, indeed they did, and the family was reunited.

The other was told by pro golfer Bobby Clampett.  When he was a little boy of around 12, he attended the Pebble Beach Pro-Am.  He had been able to get to the tournament, but when it was over, he had no way of getting home. After the round was over, he saw Palmer and went up to him.  He explained his dilemma and...asked Arnold Palmer if he could get a ride with him to take him home.  Palmer said sure.  And drove him home!

Those were just two of the stories.  They were enough by themselves.  But it went on for hours.  When I said it was powerfully moving and that I was in awe, I mean it.  I think you can see why.

I wish I could embed the two documentaries, but I've looked and they're not available for that, only short clips.  So, this below will have to suffice for now.

This is just a small part of the memorial service (which is available on YouTube in full, about two hours, or broken into six parts).  Feel free to watch this particular section in its entirety (it's only about a half hour), but most people will want to jump to the 15:15 mark.  The speaker is none other than Jack Nicklaus, Palmer's long-time rival and later dear friend of almost 60 years.  (They met and played together 58 years to the day that Palmer passed away.)  It's a moving, hilarious, wonderful speech that lasts about 15 minutes and flies by and you wish it would go on and on and on.

I have one more tremendous video from the memorial which I'll post later.  But for here, here is Jack Nicklaus remember the great Arnold Palmer.  Even if you done follow golf, do watch this.  If you don't follow golf, the shots of those in attendance will not have much meaning, but just know the room is full of pro golfers who came to Latrobe,Pennsylvania to honor the man.

It wasn't a great day in sports.  First, the tragic loss this morning with the death of Jose Fernandez, the 24-year-old star pitcher for the Miami Marlins, from a boating accident. He was hugely talented and very well-liked, with a significant future, after repeatedly risking his life to defect from Cuba, finally reaching the United States in 2008 after four attempts.

And now tonight comes word of the passing of Arnold Palmer, about as big a legend in all of sports as anyone.  As timing would have it, I am right now reading a book on golf, A Good Walk Ruined by John Feinstein, and just this morning I read a long passage he had on Palmer.  The short version is that Palmer's legend was not just on being a great golfer or charismatic on television, but that he was so well-loved in the clubhouse among other golfers.  That he always made clear he owed golf much more than it owed him -- and it owed him a lot.  He always wanted to be seen as "one of the guys," no matter how much a legend he was.  And he was seen as one of the guys -- and a legend.  Feinstein notes that Palmer's father was a club golf pro, the kind of person who has to be available to all the club's members and be gracious to them all and listen and pay attention to them.  And that Palmer's attitude as a pro had that same demeanor.  Always friends, always having time for other pros.  Always gracious with the young, beginning players, thanking them for taking the time to come talk to him.

Here's a short, six-minute documentary on the impact Arnold Palmer had on golf and its growth on television.

And a fond farewell to him and Jose Fernandez.  The comparisons are different, but the loss both deep.

There is one huge bonus for living in Los Angeles.  Listening to Vin Scully do the play-by-play of Dodger games.  As Scully winds down his otherworldly, inexplicably-great 67-year career, I’ve been able to tune in to radio and watch as many of his TV broadcasts as possible.  True, I’ve been able to watch and listen to him for the past 40 years, and I have, but not being a big Dodgers fan I haven’t remotely been a steady listener. 
 
When I got to L.A. in the mid-1970s, I was okay following the Dodgers -- hey, it was baseball, and a top-notch major league franchise, though only up to a point.  I wanted to enjoy following them as a "second team" (after the beloved Cubs, of course...), but there was a hurdle.  What I disliked about the team as a Cubs fan (who famously haven't won a World Series since 1908, or even been in a World Series since 1945) is because the Dodgers were in an era when they got to the post-season regularly and fans just assumed it a natural course of life.  The attitude really annoyed me for its arrogance.  Beyond just that, though, I remember reading a description of Dodgers fans that I’ve found spot-on, which has always part of my annoyance with them and the team.  I think it was written by the great Washington Post sportswriter Thomas Boswell.  It was basically, “Dodgers fans absolutely love the Dodgers.  They just don’t especially like baseball.” 

But…no, it’s not possible to dislike Vin Scully.  He’s pretty conservative politically, and on a very rare occasion that does creep in his commentary, or an interview with him, but you let it pass because it tends to fly by, and he’s just too great.  And when I say that, how great it is, it's worth deep perspective.  I come from a town which had three Hall of Fame baseball announcers, so my standards for comparison are pretty high.  I do have one friend who hates Vin – in part colored by his politics – but his opinion on the subject is nuts, and we nurture him like a special-needs child…

So, it’s been nice to “participate” in his send off as the season winds down.  His last game in Dodger Stadium is this Sunday.  But even though he stopped traveling with the team several years ago for road games, he’s making an exception this year and going to go up to San Francisco to do the final three games of the season there.  And yes, to be clear, and to repeat, he’s as great as his reputation.  Still.

I was thinking of writing a tribute, but didn't think I could do it justice.  Especially since there are others who have followed Scully's work far more intimately.  And I came across a terrific, new article in GQ magazine written by Keith Olbermann which is wonderful.  Overflowing with deserved praise, but in a perspective of Vin Scully being great, but human, with occasional, though rare baseball flaws. Besides which, it's filled with some great tales.

One of those concerns a pompous radio broadcast who was "Number One" at the time.  Though unnamed, it appears that it is likely Rush Limbaugh.  The story is interesting for two reasons -- one, that if it is Limbaugh, it's interesting that Olbermann does name him.  And that, being conservative himself, Scully cuts him down to size with grace and subtlety.

But it's the last story, that oddly refers to a rare gaffe, this is the most pure-Vin Scully story, and a gem.  

My only quibble is that though Olbermann references Vin Scully almost becoming John Maddon's partner on football broadcasts, he leaves out that Scully was a football announcer on NBC for a while.  And that he also broadcast golf, as well.  Eventually, he decided it was all too much, and went back to just baseball.  Where he was a master.

You can read it all here.

That was the main point of this, Keith Olbermann's article.  But then I realized that it's not possible to write about Vin Scully and not include a clip of him broadcasting.  But what to use?  I decided not to have a clip of him doing play-by-play.  Though Vin does it far better than all others, everyone does play-by-play, that's the point.  (Though how great is he?  Okay, here's a link to something I posted previously -- the tale of his legendary call of the final inning of Sandy Koufax's perfect game, and then the call itself:  you can read and listen to it here.)  Instead, I decide to post Vin Scully not doing play-by-play or A Classic Call, but rather what he does that no one else does nearly no remarkably.  And that's telling stories and keeping his listeners informed and entertained between pitches.  Here is, calling an game, and all the while filling in his listeners on the history of beards.  This isn't necessarily the best of Vin Scully...not even close, but that's what makes him so special.  That this is pretty typical of him.

And for 67 years.

Read the article above, check out the Koufax call, and find out about something you probably didn't know.  That's Vin Scully.