An irreplaceable loss

It's no secret that Greg is the writer in the family. In addition to his job, he's also recruited by friends and family to write speeches for weddings and eulogies for funerals. But tonight I'm going to try to muddle together a few thoughts about Harry Kalas.

There have been many stories told about Harry over the past day; I especially liked this one by Paul Hagen, about his life pre-Phillies. But I don't have a personal story to share. I never met him at the ballpark or spring training, at a restaurant or an event in the city.

And unlike some, I didn't see him as a surrogate grandfather. He was my baseball announcer. It may sound selfish, but I keep coming back to the same thought - what are Phillies games going to sound like now? And if Harry Kalas hadn't been there my whole life, would I enjoy baseball as much as I do now?

Harry had a good, long life. He was happy and loved what he did every day. And last year, the Phillies gave him the greatest gift they could, another World Series victory.

So while I shed some tears watching TV tributes last night, it wasn't just for his death. It was also for us, the fans. It was knowing that I'll never hear him call another "long drive, outta here;" reminisce about his favorite players and teams; get excited when the Phils make an unexpected comeback; sing High Hopes when the team succeeds again this year.

Like everyone else my age who grew up in the area, I've never known another baseball announcer. Harry Kalas was a constant; from March to September or October of every year, I would listen to him for nearly three hours every day. Who's going to fill that void?

I love the Phillies. Always have, always will. But sadly, the team, and the game, will never be the same.

[Photo: Some of our mementos from Harry Kalas appreciation day, Aug. 18, 2002]