keyboard_arrow_uptop


Harry Caray wasn’t the best technical broadcaster in the world.
Others had a smoother delivery. Harry’s pronunciation was such that you
wondered if the Cubs would purposefully avoid acquiring players like
Doug Gwosdz or Mark Grudzielanek. In later years, he had clearly slipped
due to advancing age and the ravages of ill health. But who cares? If
you’re reading this, you have an inherent understanding of Harry’s sheer
love and joy for the game. Most of us spend our lives trying to find
something we can do that will provide us with that same ebulliant
spark.


Many years ago, I was lucky enough to attend a sunny Giants/Cubs
game with a bunch of classmates. There were about 12 of us in all,
including some high school and college classmates, including 6 or 7 young
women.


Harry was trundling around the parking lot, and came by, gave his big
rendition of a smile, shook the hands of the group of us, and said, among
other things, “Boy! You guys got it made! A beautiful day of baseball with
beautiful women! I hope the Cubs have that kind of luck today!”


I’m sure Harry said a similar line a thousand times or more,
but it didn’t matter. He genuinely meant it. And we were lucky.


Thanks, Harry. You made the game better.