What a day. My first thoughts when I awoke this morning were of Lake Otsego. Of what it would be like to wake up in the Grande Dames of Northeast Inns, the Otesaga Resort on the banks of Lake Otsego and just steps away from the Baseball Hall of Fame. What would it be like to wake up in Cooperstown, the Norman Rockwell-like village surrounded by trees and baseball, knowing that my ongoing life’s achievement was about to be acknowledged, that I was going to join the greats of the game and that my name and likeness would be displayed in perpetuity .

This honor means everything to Dave Niehaus. It is nothing he campaigned for, nothing he expected although he could have. In the past few years he has never shown a hint of envy or a hint of why not me rather he displayed nothing but genuine joy for that year’s recipient. It was however, a door he hoped would open. Not so much for the recognition but rather, for the company. Dave loves baseball. Baseball is a part of Dave and now Dave is a part of the Baseball Hall of Fame. Forever.

For the past seven years I have been in Peoria at spring training when the announcement has been made. Every year on that day I was frustrated. Frustrated that a man so deserving would have to wait one more year. When the day finally came there was no question that it was well worth the wait. Dave was thrilled.

As long as I have known Dave he has always had a little “king” in him. Like my grandpa who in his later years would hold court sometimes from his easy chair during family visits or gatherings. We would come to him because he was the head of the family and beloved by us all. There was no competition when grandpa was in the room. It was all about him because we were happy to be in his presence and he was happy to have us there, happy to be the king.

Dave is the head of our Mariners family. He is the historian. He was there for every minute we were not. He was always happy to see us and let us in. He entertains with his stories and distracts us in times when we need distraction from life outside of baseball. His voice is as familiar as any family member’s. We welcome him into our homes and he welcomes us as well, receiving us graciously as king.

When he has the chance he gets more personal. From visits to the booth to greeting an entire crowd with arms open, clearly enjoying the moment he never takes us for granted. When the call finally came and countless people were congratulating him his response was always, “Thank you. Are you coming?” He wanted to take everyone to Cooperstown and in a way he did. A piece of every Mariner fan is with him and is part of the first Mariner to reside at the Hall of Fame.

Seeing him in his grey suit with the crisp white shirt in front of the red, white, and blue Hall of Fame logo just looked so right. While the sunglasses may have hid the tears in his eyes, thankfully it was impossible for the voice to mask the emotion of the day.

He spoke of listening to baseball on the Zenith radio in Princeton Indiana while catching fireflies. Younger fans who were watching may not know what he was talking about when he remembered the sound of baseball cards whipping through bicycle spokes. Dave’s voice and words evoke sense memories that are difficult to experience anywhere else. While the era of fireflies and bicycle spokes may have passed us by, they remain alive as long as Dave is there to tell the story.

On a personal note it has been both a pleasure and an honor to work with Dave. I was welcomed the first time I walked into the booth and this is something I cannot take for granted as there are a few prima donnas in this business. Dave is not one of them. He has always been generous in letting me in and making me feel welcome. Remember, I was walking into what had been for a long time an all boys booth. There was never an awkward moment.

I am so impressed that Dave keeps up the pace he does. He rarely misses a game, makes all the road trips and never misses a beat. Believe me, the travel can be hard, demanding even, but there Dave is every game, at the ballpark an hour before me. He has his scorebook out, he reads his clips, he talks to people and receives his guests. He is always prepared and he never mails it in. He is a guy who could flip on the microphone and talk about anything, spin stories, make things up without batting an eyelash, but no. He is prepared. Every single day.

I love the fact that the same man who sparked Dave’s love of the baseball broadcast did the same with me years later. For Dave it was with the Cardinals, for me the Cubs and the man was Harry Caray. He spun the yarn, painted rich pictures, gave the facts and most of all inspired the imagination. Like Dave I grew up hundreds of miles from a big league ballpark. Dave’s first trip to the big city came with his father when he was twelve years old. He was awestruck and in a way let down at the same time.

“It may as well had been the Parthenon. But they were just ballplayers and it was just a field.” He said. “I was disappointed because Caray had done that to me, played with my mind.”

The picture painted on the radio and in a young Dave Niehaus’s mind was so grand that the reality paled in comparison. This wore off quickly however as this was not just any ball club.

“They were more than just ballplayers,” Niehaus continued. They were the 1946 St Louis Cardinals that ended up in the World Series against the Boston Red Sox. I can name every ballplayer that was on that club.”

The seed was planted and the picture was painted. Dave’s love for the game was not born of playing or even seeing the game, rather through sounds, words and imagination. It is why he can to this day paint the pictures he does. Our baseball experience is all the richer
for it.