The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 55: The Man Behind the Microphone

Episode Date: May 9, 2017

Sometimes choosing the right words means not sticking to the script.

This is the way I heard it. The tension hung in the air, a palpable thing. With two down and runners on the corners, the batter crowded the plate, and the pitcher waited for his sign. He got it and unleashed a fastball, very high and very inside. The batter ducked. Both benches leapt to their feet, and the umpire issued a warning. Now, with the count at three and two and the prospect of a brawl, very real, the man behind the microphone knew exactly. how to play it. It all comes down to this, ladies and gentlemen, the moment of truth,

this epic confrontation where two men meet on the field of battle, but only one can prevail. In kitchens and living rooms across the country, fans leaned into their radios and held their collective breath as the pitcher went into his stretch. The runner on first bolted for second. The pitcher ignored him and served up a wicked slider. The batter swung and sent the ball deep into left field, but just foul. The crowd groaned, but stayed on their feet. The catcher walked to the mound for a quick conference. The batter stepped back into the box and waited for the sign he wanted. He got it. This time, a change-up, and another foul ball high into the cheap seats. The announcer described the chaos as the two men fought for the souvenir, painting a picture that came alive

in the mind's eye of all those who listened, but the drama was just getting started. The next three pitches were all foul balls, each sent to a different part of the stadium. So were the next three after that, and the next three after that. It was an extraordinary opportunity for the tall Irish kid with the radio voice and the Hollywood smile, and he made the most of every second, the batter stepping out of the box at the last moment to disrupt the pitcher's timing. The pitcher prowling the mound like a tiger determined to get into the batter's head. Each pitch had become a chess match, a steely test of wills brought to life by the announcer's urgent baritone, a voice that dripped with anticipation and possibility.

Another foul ball. And another after that. And another after that. Finally, after 14 foul balls, half a dozen trips to the ball. the mound and nearly 12 minutes of unrelenting tension, the man behind the mic set the scene for the final time. Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, another moment of truth in this battle royale, another payoff pitch in this eternal showdown, this operatic contest of wills. Both men are exhausted and both understand exactly what they must do. Here's the wind-up, and here's the pitch. It's a strike, fast and hard and right down the middle, and the side is retired. And so ended one of the most unusual at-bats in the history of baseball. A called third strike

on a batter of no great consequence from a pitcher of no particular acclaim in a game of no great importance chronicled for posterity by an announcer who made the whole thing. up. It's true. The batter did strike out, but all those foul balls and everything in between was a figment of the sportscaster's imagination. You see, in those days, baseball games were called by announcers in radio stations far from the actual ballpark. They sat in small gray rooms behind large gray microphones waiting for a telegraph operator to send them the play-by-play, which they would then bring to life as best they could. But when this particular telegraph signal was interrupted in the middle of this particular game,

this particular sportscaster didn't panic. The man behind the mic closed his eyes and called the game exactly the way he imagined it. and the fans loved him for it. And so decades later, it came as no great surprise when America sat down to watch the biggest game of the year and listened with rapt attention to the play-by-play delivered by the now legendary broadcaster, a man who understood the importance of choosing

just the right words at just the right time. Once again, the tension hung in the world. the air, a palpable thing. And the prospect of a brawl seemed very real. And once again, when the moment came for the payoff pitch, the words he chose did not appear on his teleprompter, or on the approved transcript on the podium before him. No, the words he chose on that particular day were his and his alone. Mr. Gorbachev. tear down this wall. This was no game, but those words were a strike, nevertheless, thrown fast and hard, and right down the middle, delivered extemporaneously by the man behind the mic, a man who knew exactly how to play it, the 40th president of these United States and the most influential sportscaster of all time.

Ronald Reagan. Anyway, I'm Mike Roe, and that's the way I heard it. Marketing is hard. But I'll tell you a little secret. It doesn't have to be. Let me point something out. You're listening to a podcast right now, and it's great. You love the host.

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