Three years ago on the 4th of July, I did something I'd never done before: I wrote a fan letter. As rumors of Vin Scully's impending retirement were circulating at that time, and as I wanted Vinny to know how much he'd meant to me through the years, I put pen on paper and mailed him the following letter:
4th of July, 2007
Mr. Vin Scully
Dodger Stadium
Los Angeles
Dear Mr. Scully,
On a career-counseling questionnaire I took a long time ago, I was asked to name the four most influential people in my life. Your name appeared as #4 on my list, behind JR Richards, my summer camp mentor, Danny Kaye, and Deb Johnson, my best friend.
"What could a summer camp director, an actor, your best friend and a sports announcer have in common?" the counselor asked me.
"They’re all great storytellers." I answered, realizing only at that moment that my destiny lay in writing and storytelling.
Mr. Scully, I don’t know how much longer you’re intending to broadcast the Dodgers’ games but I do know that I’ve always wanted to tell you how much I’ve learned from you.
I grew up in Santa Barbara, you see. I remember weekend gardening with my dad, the radio tuned in to the Dodgers’ game. I remember secretly listening to you, buried under my blankets, when I was supposed to be asleep. I remember attending the Sandy Koufax no-hitter in ’65, wondering how on earth Dad could hear you on his radio’s earplug over the deafening roar of the crowd. I remember wanting to try Farmer John pork, even though I’m Jewish, because you made it sound so tasty. (‘The easternmost in quality and the westernmost in flavor"). Most of all I remember loving your anecdotes so much that I didn’t care what happened on the next play, so long as you’d return to the story.
Please know I am listening to you, still, way over here in Israel, thanks to the wonders of Internet and MLB.TV.
With gratitude,