This dreadful season for the Atlanta Braves has, finally, hit rock bottom. Now it just can't get any worse: Skip Caray, the long-time voice of the Braves, collapsed and died this afternoon while filling a bird feeder in his backyard. (Initial reports were that Skip had died while napping. His wife, Paula, corrected that information in the afternoon on Aug. 4)
Skip Caray and Pete Van Wieren were hired in 1976 by Ted Turner to join Ernie Johnson in the Braves' booth. Turner had bought a baseball team-an absolutely dreadful baseball team-to be a part of the backbone of his tv station's programming, and he needed broadcasters who could keep the fans' interest, because God knew, the team wasn't going to keep them tuned in. So, to Johnson, perhaps the nicest human being in the world, Turner added Van Wieren, perhaps the smartest human being in the world, and Skip Caray, certainly the most passionate and sarcastically funny human being in the world.
He came by his passion for baseball honestly. The son of Harry Caray grew up on the game, and gave his life to it, too. But where Harry openly and lovingly accepted most everything that happened in front of him, Skip brought the more skeptical sensibilities of a person who was a young adult through the 1960's. Many nights in the late 70's, Skip would grant late-inning permission to viewers who had watched the Braves take another drubbing to "go ahead and walk the dog, as long as you promise to patronize our sponsors." In the days of the 2 am Braves replays on TBS, Skip would speculate on the mental health of anyone who would "watch this junk in the middle of the night." Or, "If you're watching the replay, we welcome all dozen of you to the broadcast." Or, on a brutally hot August night at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, "I'd like to personally thank all of you folks who came out tonight, and it wouldn't take very long to do that." Skip was a wiseass, and that made him a cult hero to fraternity boys all over America, who would put on the Braves as we came in for the night, to listen to Skip let somebody have it. That spirit continued to the very end, as the Georgia Department of Transportation had become the main target of the last couple of seasons, due to their endless "improvements" to I-75/I-85.
Skip was sick last fall, sick enough for the doctors to call his family in. He made it through, and we got to have another half season with him on the radio, at least for home games.
Braves baseball will still be uncommonly well covered. Pete Van Wieren is still on the radio, sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of the game. Chip Caray has carried the family business very ably into the third generation. Joe Simpson and Jon "Boog" Sciambi are an excellent team. But Braves broadcasts will never again be as much fun as they have always been since 1976. Skip, just like Harry before him, always, always, always made the game fun. And after all, it is still a game.
God bless you, Skip. And your wife, Paula; your sons Chip and Josh; your grandchildren; stepmom, Duchy; and millions upon millions of Braves fans who loved listening to you explain the infield fly rule to some dope on the call-in segment, pontificate on the wave whenever the non-fans broke it out, share the home town of the last fan to catch a foul ball, attack the club-level fan who dropped a foul ball, and capture the drama of the game in your call of Sid Bream's slide, Smoltz blowing away another batter, Chipper cranking another homer, or Marquis Grissom securing the fly that gave the Braves their World Championship.
Well done, sir! We'll miss you.
Skip Caray and Pete Van Wieren were hired in 1976 by Ted Turner to join Ernie Johnson in the Braves' booth. Turner had bought a baseball team-an absolutely dreadful baseball team-to be a part of the backbone of his tv station's programming, and he needed broadcasters who could keep the fans' interest, because God knew, the team wasn't going to keep them tuned in. So, to Johnson, perhaps the nicest human being in the world, Turner added Van Wieren, perhaps the smartest human being in the world, and Skip Caray, certainly the most passionate and sarcastically funny human being in the world.
He came by his passion for baseball honestly. The son of Harry Caray grew up on the game, and gave his life to it, too. But where Harry openly and lovingly accepted most everything that happened in front of him, Skip brought the more skeptical sensibilities of a person who was a young adult through the 1960's. Many nights in the late 70's, Skip would grant late-inning permission to viewers who had watched the Braves take another drubbing to "go ahead and walk the dog, as long as you promise to patronize our sponsors." In the days of the 2 am Braves replays on TBS, Skip would speculate on the mental health of anyone who would "watch this junk in the middle of the night." Or, "If you're watching the replay, we welcome all dozen of you to the broadcast." Or, on a brutally hot August night at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, "I'd like to personally thank all of you folks who came out tonight, and it wouldn't take very long to do that." Skip was a wiseass, and that made him a cult hero to fraternity boys all over America, who would put on the Braves as we came in for the night, to listen to Skip let somebody have it. That spirit continued to the very end, as the Georgia Department of Transportation had become the main target of the last couple of seasons, due to their endless "improvements" to I-75/I-85.
Skip was sick last fall, sick enough for the doctors to call his family in. He made it through, and we got to have another half season with him on the radio, at least for home games.
Braves baseball will still be uncommonly well covered. Pete Van Wieren is still on the radio, sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of the game. Chip Caray has carried the family business very ably into the third generation. Joe Simpson and Jon "Boog" Sciambi are an excellent team. But Braves broadcasts will never again be as much fun as they have always been since 1976. Skip, just like Harry before him, always, always, always made the game fun. And after all, it is still a game.
God bless you, Skip. And your wife, Paula; your sons Chip and Josh; your grandchildren; stepmom, Duchy; and millions upon millions of Braves fans who loved listening to you explain the infield fly rule to some dope on the call-in segment, pontificate on the wave whenever the non-fans broke it out, share the home town of the last fan to catch a foul ball, attack the club-level fan who dropped a foul ball, and capture the drama of the game in your call of Sid Bream's slide, Smoltz blowing away another batter, Chipper cranking another homer, or Marquis Grissom securing the fly that gave the Braves their World Championship.
Well done, sir! We'll miss you.
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