He was the soundtrack of a city, the muse of millions, the voice of home.
Vin Scully is gone, but he will never be silenced.
Forever he will be heard on soft spring afternoons, a serenade of rebirth, a song of hope.
“It’s tiiiime for Dodger baseball!”
Forever he will resonate on warm summer nights, the music of family, the lyrics of life.
“Hi, everybody, and a very pleasant good evening to you wherever you may be. . . .”
Scully died Tuesday at 94, but his poetic narration of Los Angeles’ most enduring sports franchise will ring in our hearts forever.
Officially, for 67 years, he was the television and radio broadcaster for Dodgers baseball, including from the moment they arrived in town in 1958 until his retirement in 2016.
Unofficially, he was a guy who sang show tunes on his drive to work, attended weekly Mass outside the Dodgers’ clubhouse, and would spend afternoons sitting by his backyard pool doing play-by-play of his children and grandchildren swimming.
Officially, he existed behind a microphone in a tiny cramped booth high above Dodger Stadium home plate, reluctant to be shown on the video board, happy to be the anonymous narrator who, on his bobblehead night, never once mentioned it was his bobblehead night.
Unofficially, he was everywhere.
He was such a part of the fabric of this city that his voice was an actual landmark, a lilting Hollywood sign, a poetic Griffith Park, a storytelling Santa Monica Pier.