A Dodger fan's thoughts on Vin Scully

Staff Writer Alex Dominguez poses with former Dodger broadcaster Vin Scully in 2017. Scully passed away at the age of 94 earlier this week. (Courtesy photo).

We all have a Vin story.

Mine took place at an “An Evening with Vin Scully” event held in Pasadena in 2017. I had splurged on a VIP ticket, granting me the once in a lifetime chance to meet one of the few people I will audibly admit to being “one of my heroes.”

My time allotted was brief. No time for an autograph, to pour my heart out or pick his brain, I had a few seconds to hopefully sneak in a handshake, maybe a few words of gratitude, and pose for a photo.

I don’t remember what I said, just that he was humble in response.

That photo is one of the few I consider of myself to be the most authentic. Nothing forced, nothing awkward. My grin, ear-to-ear. My hand tightly clasped around his, never wanting to let go. A moment of raw, unfiltered bliss frozen in time.

I can’t tell you everything he said that night during his talk. I remember bits and pieces, mainly about his thoughts on the controversy surrounding the NFL at the time, and that “It’s hard to win a world series” (we were still pretty fresh off of the Dodgers loss to the Houston Astros that year).

No, what I took away most from that night was a feeling of awe and amazement. It was miraculous albeit not surprising how Vin captivated the entire audience for that hour, like a grandfather perched in his chair with hundreds of grandchildren sitting attentively at his feet.

I’ve been told by some that “I write like I speak;” I think that has at least a little to do with my admiration of Vin Scully.

A child of the 90’s, I didn’t necessarily have many “transistor radio” stories. My love of baseball grew through attending four to five games a season, through little league, through playing catch with my uncle and grandpa.

I didn’t grow to love America’s pastime from listening to it or watching it secondhand; I didn’t have the attention span for that kind of exposure.

Still, I knew Vin. I knew that voice that could cut through the roar of the crowd. The integral piece to the baseball puzzle.

It wasn’t until I was older, in college, and dare I say a little more mature that I was finally able to sit and listen to a radio broadcast, or watch a game on tv. By that time, Vin was starting to transition into the final years of his career, and was only calling the first half of games.

If I could get out of class and to my car early enough, I would be treated to half, an inning, or two of Vin’s broadcast. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it was a treat that numbed the pain of sitting on the freeway for 45 minutes.

It didn’t matter if the Dodgers were winning or losing, Vin had a way of snaring his audience. As a writer myself, that’s what enthralled me about him. Vin was a master storyteller.

When you listened to Vin, the game practically played second fiddle to whatever story he had to tell. It didn’t feel like you were being reported to or broadcasted at; Vin was having a conversation.

Vin was more than just the voice of the Dodgers, of baseball.

To many fans, Vin was a friend. An icon. A legend. A gentleman.

His tones were melodical to the point of whimsical. There was comfort to be found in every anecdote, statistic, and bit of humor. He held a cadence that was unmatched, unparalleled, and unable to be duplicated.

He wasn’t just the voice of the Dodgers; he was the soul.

Vin retired in 2016, and has long been removed from his namesake press box. In the time since then, Dodger fans have learned to love and appreciate new, and other Dodger broadcasters: Joe Davis and Orel Hershiser, Rick Monday and Charley Steiner, John Hartung, Jerry Hairston Jr., Ned Collette, Alanna Rizzo, and Nomar Garciaparra (just to name a few).

Jaime Jarrin and Fernando Valenzuela are already legends in their own right.

Still, there will never be another Vin Scully.

With just over 50 games left, this season will continue on and – inevitably – it will be time for Dodger baseball once again; Dodger Stadium will just shine a little less blue for now.

Goodbye Vin. Thank you.

And a very pleasant good afternoon to you, wherever you may be.