Voices of Summer: Ranking Baseball's 101 All-Time Best Announcers (44 page)

A horde wired NBC Radio/TV: Ned, Marty Brennaman, Sox video's
Dick Stockton, and Joe Garagiola, Tony Kubek, and Gowdy. Martin likened
Curt, Tony, and himself to "Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod." Game Six still
blinks: 12th inning, 6-all, Carlton Fisk up. "The one-oh delivery . . . ," Ned
said on radio. "He swings. Long drive, left field!" Memory freezes Fisk
employing hand signs and body English to push or force or pray the ball fair.
"Home run! The Red Sox win! And the Series is tied, three games apiece!"
The Fens were alive with music. The Towne Team lived.

The Sox, being the Sox, lost Game Seven, 4-3. Fisk's blast was their, and
Martin's, peak-"arguably the greatest [pre-2004] moment in franchise history." Game Six became "a keeper," and Ned, comer: to Jack Craig, "a quality
announcer of pure gold." He and Ernie Harwell did CBS Radio's 1976-78
A.L. playoffs. To know him, though, meant returning to Fenway Park.

Who else could weld Rousseau, Reggie Smith, and Dizzy Gillespie and
Dean? Radio's twits and toads did not know what they had. In late 1975,
Boston signed a record $450,000 pact. Next year, flagship WITS (then
WMEX) launched a spree of pre-Home Shopping Network in-inning ads.
"More and more," said Ned, "we were told to shill and schmooze VIPs."The
Nation was unaware. Its worry eyed the field.

In July 1978, the Townies led New York by 14 games. Ahead: "the apocalyptic Red Sox collapse," wrote Dan Shaughnessy, "against which all others
must be measured. A four-game set-"The Boston Massacre"-began
Thursday, September 7.The race was tied by Sunday:Yanks, 15-3, 13-2, 7-0,
and 7-4. Boston fell 3 112 games behind, then turned. October 2 broke crisp and light--the first A. L. playoff since 1948. WITS had already dropped the
shoe. "Fans didn't know," said Martin, "but this was Jim's and my last Sox game."

Dorian Gray led off inning two. "Long drive, right field, this may be out
of here! It is ... a fair ball, [Yazj home run. Red Sox lead, 1-0!" Later they
scored again. The Stripes then began turning screws. Lou Piniella caught
Lynn's twisting drive (otherwise, 4-0). Bucky Dent fouled Mike Torrez's seventh-inning two-on/out pitch off his foot. Turn: Mickey Rivers ditched the
broken bat for another. Reggie Jackson's earlier drive to left had dropped off
a shelf. The wind now blew out. Dent swung. "I sawYaz looking up," said Fisk,
"and I said, `Oh, God."'

Each team scored twice: Yanks, 5-4. In the ninth, the final turn of "the
Red Sox--Yankee competition," wrote Peter Gammons, "reached a peak of
intensity rare even in that legendary rivalry." Blinded, Piniella snagged Jerry
Remy's one out/on bounce liner to stem a flag-waving inside-the-park
homer. Two men roosted. Jim Rice flied out. Yaz tried on his final chance for
a World Series ring.

"A high popup to the left side!" said Martin. "In fair ground is Graig Nettles! In foul ground is Nettles! And theYankees win the pennant!" Battalions
of sorrow still shroud the yard.

"Martin's firing created such an uproar," Craig wrote, "that the fellow who
fired him [WITS' Joe Scallon] was soon gone as well." Ned replaced TV's
Stockton. "Dick was going to CBS, so why not try it?" Said Coleman: "He
could paint a word-picture, frowned upon on television. TV's glitzy, not his
kind of crowd."

In 1986, only NBC's local ban kept Ned from adding Bill Buckner to
Game Six. Later he left free TV for cable's New England Sports Network.
"The Sox bounced him around," said Booth, "making him feel indebted to
have" a job. Errant, some began to muse. The Nation shrugged; we forgive
those we love. In 1992, Ned got a week's notice, putThoreau in a duffel bag,
and retired to an old farmhouse in southwest Virginia. He showed a visitor
family photos, Civil War cartoons, and a mass of books-the Squire, at peace
and home.

In 2002, Martin entered the Red Sox Hall of Fame. The room shook on
his introduction. "Until then," said Joe Castiglione, "he never knew what he
meant." No. 9 died that July. Ned went to Boston for a service. "He'd had a
bad back and knee and hip replacement, but wouldn't miss it," said son Roley.
"He loved the videos, and Field of Dreams song, and taps."

Next morning Martin, 78, flew to Raleigh-Durham Airport, caught a
shuttle bus, and had a heart attack. "Those who always feel the `good old
days' were better than the present," wrote the Globe's Bill Griffith, "might ...
this time ... be right." Daughter Caroline defined dad's mercy: "His love was
his family [wife Barbara, of 51 years, three children, and nine grandchildren]
... the country, his dogs, and cat Emily."

After all, Ned Martin was the cat's meow.

man MARTIN

A 1960s Avis ad yapped, "We're Number Two. We try harder." Jim Woods was
1953-78 Number Two to Mel Allen, Red Barber, Russ Hodges, Bob Prince,
Jack Buck, Monte Moore, and Martin. Being top gun elsewhere seldom
crossed his mind. "Jim didn't want the paperwork," laughed Ned. Not trying
harder, "He wanted to have fun."

In 1956, Enos Slaughter, seeing Woods's buzz cut, gibed, "I've seen better
heads on a possum." Betty Prince called Jim's wife "Mrs. Possum." Was Poss and
Prince baseball's deuce-or was it Woods and Martin? Did any trio match Jim,
Mel, and Red? "It's no coincidence," said Allen. The common tie was Woods.

Jim was a Kansas City Blues batboy, University of Missouri journalism
major, and freshman dropout. "Dad hated me leaving," he said. "I said, `You
won't when I get toYankee Stadium."' Woods joined KGLO Mason City, The
Music Man's "River City." Robert Preston sang, "Ya gotta know the territory."
In 1937, Ronald Reagan swapped his, Big Ten football, for Hollywood.

"Nothing like succeeding a prez!" crowed Poss. The Gipper's voice
soothed, like a compress. Woods's slapped you in the face. "Gravelly,
whiskeyed," marveled Ned, "leaping through the radio." Mel called him "the
best-ever sidekick, superior to most Number Ones." Shunned by Cooperstown, Possum's void appalls.

In 1948, Ernie Harwell leftTriple-A Atlanta for Brooklyn. Poss replaced him
from WTAD Quincy, Illinois. Next season, the Crackers became the first
team to telecast its entire schedule. In 1953, a voice even surpassing Woods's
called Georgia. "Mel asks me to New York, I walk into his suite, and he's on
the phone talking to Joe DiMaggio about Marilyn Monroe." Poss knew he
was in the big leagues then.

That fall, Red fled Flatbush forThe Stadium. "Add Jim," he said, "and it may
have been baseball's greatest threesome." Woods respected, but feared, The
Voice. "One (lay I described Mickey Mantle foul a ball on top. Mel had a habit of
snapping his fingers if I did something wrong. `What'd I do?' He said,'On top of
what?' I said, `The roof."Then say the roof and complete your sentence."'

The rook'sYanks won a fifth straight Series. In August 1956, they released
Phil Rizzuto, who began angling for a job. One day, Poss found G.M. George
Weiss staring at the floor. "`Jim, I have to do something I've never done-fire someone without a reason."' Ballantine Beer had ordered Phil's hiring.
Stunned--"it's a funny business. Things happen"-Woods, 39, joined the
Giants' Russ Hodges.

In 1958, Hodges left for San Francisco, where new sidekick Lon Simmons knew the territory. Jim moved to Pittsburgh his third team in as
many years. "It's like I needed a home," he said, "and here it was." Through
1969, Poss and Prince seared sameness like a laser cuts dead cells.

"Everyone said, `Prince is out of control, you'll never get along,"' Woods
mused. Instead, they gilded KDKA Radio with a pencil and scorecard. "That
was it," said the Gunner. "We'd do play-by-play--or tap dance if the game
stunk." Jim then turned off his mike. "Enough a' that! Booze!" A drizzly
Friday, Ken Coleman arrived in Pittsburgh for "Game of the Week." Prince said: "`Poss, I wish they'd call the game so I could get home and watch that
John Wayne Western.' So different from anything I'd heard."

Spying a lass, Bob howled, "Check that one out in black!"You're on the
air, Woods said. "Geez," Prince replied, "when I think what I coulda said!"
Once Poss evoked Bob's famed dive from a third-floor window. "How'd your
act check out here?" Prince: "One way to find out," knifing from the ledge.

In 1960, Pittsburgh won its first World Series since 1925. Even aYankees fan
recalls its leaves and hues and spooked-up days. Woods recalls KDKA buying sixties rights from Atlantic-Richfield Company. "They began to hem us in, said we
wandered." By late 1969, he demanded a pay hike: owner Westinghouse refused.

"I'd never got enough money. So when an offer for more came, I
jumped." Landing in St. Louis, Poss soon regretted it.

"Great baseball city, my ass," he laughed without mirth. "The front office, Buck's
ego, how you were afraid to smile."Woods couldn't wait to beat a 1972 path to
Oakland. "Monte Moore liked to stay at home, didn't gamble: me, where's the
track?" The A's took that fall's L.C.S. "[Detroit's] Fryman is set," Jim said in the
clincher. "Here's the pitch toTenace. Line drive into left field-this maybe tough
to score on. The ball is dropped-ball is dropped by Freehan. And Oakland
moves into the lead, 2 to 1, on GeneTenace's first hit of the playoff."

Poss's A's won two Series. In November 1973, Charles O. Finley told
Woods that he liked homers more than him. "I was loyal to the man, never
criticized him, but Finley loved the Midwest style where you scream at a foul
ball," he said. "`Jim, you're a great announcer when something happens, but
when nothing is going on you're not.'"

Weiss, St. Louis, Finley: Woods pined for Pittsburgh. Instead, he signed
with Boston in early 1974. That same morning, the phone rang. "I've thought
this over," said Finley, "and I'd like you to come back."

"Charlie," Jim said, "I've obligated myself to the Red Sox for the next
two years."

"Shit," Charlie snapped, "everybody knows those contracts aren't worth
the paper they're written on."

"I'm tied up. I'm not coming back to Oakland." Hanging up, he joined
Martin on WBZ Radio. Their road show soon bagged New England: Poss, a
megaphone; Ned, bemused and wry.

"Gunner and I were Ringling Brothers," said Woods. Martin was oldshoe, like a slipper. "Sox fans like it toned down. If I did a Prince I'd have been
run out of town." Each knew the game, played off the other, and refused to toot his horn. "They had the same philosophy," said NESN's Bob Whitelaw. A
listener hoped for rain: their stories held you fixed.

"Was it ever better," wrote Clark Booth, "than when Ned and Possum did
a game on an August night when the pennant race was just beginning to
simmer and the mood was evocative of the fifties?" In 1975, Carlton Fisk
returned from a broken wrist. "Way back!" growled Poss. "Back! It is gone!
... His first home run of the year! And look at him jump and dance! He's the
happiest guy in Massachusetts!" The L.C.S. swung on Game Two. "Fly ball,
left field! Rico Petrocelli has homered into the screen! Boston leads [the A's],
5-3, and Fenway Park is an absolute madhouse!"

For a time I thought that "the best play-by-play combination," Booth said,
"in the history of American sport" would last. Silly me.

As we have seen, WITS Radio wanted company men, not good company. "Hit
parties, ooze oil," Woods said. "I couldn't, nor would Ned." The poet and
peripatetic refused to prostitute or pimp.

Retiring, Poss surfaced on USA TV's Thursday "Game of the Week." His
last stop began February 20, 1988, at 71, of cancer. "Leave it to Jim," said a
friend. "He had to go to Heaven to find a better boss than Ned or Prince."

JIM WOODS