Skip Caray died in his sleep in his Atlanta home Sunday afternoon. The bulletin on the news wire a couple hours ago was not unexpected, but it still stung. It was like hearing a member of the family had passed, because in a sense, that is exactly what happened. For more than 30 years, we've been listening to Skip call Braves games, telling us the hometown of fans who come up with foul balls and announcing that once again the wave has broken out in the ballpark "for no apparent reason."
We loved his nasally voice, his blunt assessments of people and events, and his Yoda-like syntax ("Safely reached in each of the last five games, has Yunel Escobar...") We loved his feigned indignation with fans who would call up during his pregame show with yet another question about the Infield Fly Rule.
Skip has been in poor health for the last several years. He almost died this past Spring. His doctors called the family in and told them to say their goodbyes. But Skip rallied and even returned to the broadcast booth. He sounded weak but he still had his trademark sense of humor and sarcasm.
There were some baseball fans who didn't care for Skip, but he was always one of my favorites. He and Pete Van Wieren, "The Professor" made an incredible team. They helped us get through the dark days of the 1970s and 80s, when it was mighty tough to be a Braves fan. Skip even famously participated (along with Ted Turner) in pre-game shenanigans like Ostrich races to try to bring fans to the ballpark, since they weren't coming for the baseball. Then, Skip and Pete were the voice of the seemingly invincible Braves as they brought post season play to Atlanta for fourteen autumns in a row.
None of us will ever forget Skip's call of Game 7 of the '92 NLCS. The Braves trailed by one in the bottom of the ninth. Third-string catcher Francisco Cabrera was at the plate, David Justice was on third and the notoriously slow Sid Bream was on second. Skip calmly noted the huge gap in the outfield. "If he hits one out there, we'll be dancing in the streets," Skip said prophetically.
Cabrera did just that. Justice scored easily from third, tying the game. Bream lumbered around the bases as Bonds - not known for his great arm - loaded up and threw to the plate. Bond's throw was up the first base line, pulling Pirates catcher Mike LaValliere off the plate. LaValliere lunged back attempting to apply the tag to the sliding Bream. Skip's call was a classic:
Swung, line drive left field! One run is in! Here comes Bream! Here's the throw to the plate! He is...SAFE! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win!...Braves win!
Skip Caray was a part of an iconic baseball broadcasting dynasty that included his late father Harry Caray, his son Chip, also a Braves announcer, and son Josh, an announcer for the Rome Braves.
The Caray family was known for their colorful announcing, not for their family values. Harry was, by all accounts, a pretty sorry excuse for a father. Skip learned about his parent's divorce from a Chicago newspaper as he walked to school. Sadly, Skip followed in his father's footsteps not just behind the mic but in his parenting skills as well. Later in life, it broke Skip's heart to realize that he had inflicted on his children the same pain that Harry had inflicted on him. He cleaned up his act and did his best to make peace with his kids and with his father.
As far as Skip was concerned, the highlight of his career wasn't the exciting calls he made during the Braves amazing 14-year run. The biggest thrill for him was the 1991 game that he got to call with Harry and Chip not long before Harry passed away. It was the only time in baseball history that three generations of baseball announcers shared a booth together.
After Chip joined the Braves announcing team, there was something very special about hearing the banter in the booth between him and Skip, especially when they would dispense with the broadcast formalities and refer to each other as "Dad" or "Son." This past Father's Day, Skip urged the audience to call their Dads that day if they were still blessed to be able to do so. "Once they're gone, you would give anything in the world to be able to talk to them, but you can't," he said.
Skip suffered from the same medical dilemma that my took my father's life - the deadly combination of kidney and heart failure. Treating the heart failure is bad for the kidneys, treating the kidneys is bad for the heart. About all you can do is try to maintain a balance of treatments while the patient gets weaker and weaker. Just a few weeks ago, Skip said he had no regrets. "I've had a great life... it's been a great run."
That great run ended today, and for us it is the end of an era. It is so hard to imagine Braves baseball without Skip Caray. It is so sad to realize we will never hear him call a game again, never hear the banter between Skip and Pete. We'll never again hear him explain the Infield Fly Rule... again. We'll never hear him declare that a fan from Monroe, Georgia came up with the baseball hit into the stands. We'll never again hear him declare that it's "free baseball in Atlanta" as a game goes to extra innings.
Farewell, old friend. You will be greatly missed.
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