Read Online You Can't Make This Up: Miracles, Memories, and the Perfect Marriage of Sports and Television by Al Michaels, L. Jon Wertheim - Free Book Online
Authors: Al Michaels, L. Jon Wertheim
Ads: Link
Bennett would win eighteen games in 1970 for the Islanders. Elroy Face, a pitcher who was approaching his fortieth birthday, but who in 1959 had been an astonishing 18-1 as a reliever for the Pittsburgh Pirates, became a Hawaii Islander. Quinn also bought the contract of former All-Star Juan Pizarro, who went 9-0 in nine starts for Hawaii in 1970 and then was sold to the Cubs.
We had some promising prospects from the Angels organization as well. Marty Perez was the Islanders’ shortstop in 1970, and then was traded to the Braves in 1971, and spent most of his six seasons in Atlanta as a starter. We had a young second baseman, Doug Griffin, who’d wind up winning a Gold Glove in Boston in 1972. Overall, we had a number of players with some name recognition—but not as many up-and-coming prospects as the Angels would have liked. It was more important to the parent team that we developed young talent. But it was more important to Quinn to draw fans, win games, and make money.
Despite this push and pull with the parent club, around the baseball industry the Islanders were seen as a model for what a minor-league team could be. Outstanding attendance (approximately 450,000 fans in 1970—a huge number in those days), good management, an entertaining product on the field. When that happens, a lot of people in the organization benefit by association. It happens in all sports, and is still the case today. If you work for the San Antonio Spurs or the St. Louis Cardinals, that’s a good connection. And in Hawaii, I knew that my name was getting out there and circulating among major-league teams—at least in part because I was with the Islanders.
In the late summer of 1970, the Angels’ farm director, Roland Hemond, whom I’d gotten to know well, and who was Jack Quinn’s brother-in-law, was going to be named the Chicago White Sox’ new general manager. And as soon as the PCL playoffs were over, he was going to hire Chuck Tanner to be the White Sox manager. Roland told me he wanted to bring me to Chicago to be the number-one announcer for the White Sox, and that he and Chuck would begin to lobby for me as soon as they got to Chicago. He thought he could get the deal done, and just needed to convince the White Sox owner, John Allyn.
I was over the moon. The big leagues were looming. The Islanders’ season ended and I waited about six weeks. “It’s coming along, we’re working on it,” Hemond kept telling me. The job was open. Then, in late October, I picked up the phone and I could tell from Roland’s voice it wasn’t good news. “Allyn loves your tape and feels you have a great future,” he said. “But he just can’t bring himself to hire someone in his mid-twenties and bring him into a market as big as Chicago as the number-one announcer.”
Too young for a big job again ?
The White Sox wound up hiring Harry Caray, who’d been a popular figure in St. Louis broadcasting Cardinal games before getting fired, and then had spent a year in Oakland. He’d wind up spending eleven seasons as the White Sox announcer, and then of course move across town in 1982 to finish his iconic career with the Cubs.
ON SEPTEMBER 21, 1970, I had lunch with Don Rockwell, the news director of KHVH. I remember the date because we talked about a show that the ABC network was debuting that night: Monday Night Football.
The show was in good measure the brainchild of Roone Arledge, the president of ABC Sports. In the late 1960s, the NFL had played a handful of random games on Monday nights. The ratings were ho-hum. NFL games were as much a part of Sunday as going to church, so pushing the last game of the week to prime time on Monday was a gamble. Pete Rozelle was the commissioner, and had experience with night football games when he was the publicity director of the Los Angeles Rams in the late fifties. The Rams had played some night games when he was there, and he believed that televising a game every Monday night could work.
ABC was a
We had some promising prospects from the Angels organization as well. Marty Perez was the Islanders’ shortstop in 1970, and then was traded to the Braves in 1971, and spent most of his six seasons in Atlanta as a starter. We had a young second baseman, Doug Griffin, who’d wind up winning a Gold Glove in Boston in 1972. Overall, we had a number of players with some name recognition—but not as many up-and-coming prospects as the Angels would have liked. It was more important to the parent team that we developed young talent. But it was more important to Quinn to draw fans, win games, and make money.
Despite this push and pull with the parent club, around the baseball industry the Islanders were seen as a model for what a minor-league team could be. Outstanding attendance (approximately 450,000 fans in 1970—a huge number in those days), good management, an entertaining product on the field. When that happens, a lot of people in the organization benefit by association. It happens in all sports, and is still the case today. If you work for the San Antonio Spurs or the St. Louis Cardinals, that’s a good connection. And in Hawaii, I knew that my name was getting out there and circulating among major-league teams—at least in part because I was with the Islanders.
In the late summer of 1970, the Angels’ farm director, Roland Hemond, whom I’d gotten to know well, and who was Jack Quinn’s brother-in-law, was going to be named the Chicago White Sox’ new general manager. And as soon as the PCL playoffs were over, he was going to hire Chuck Tanner to be the White Sox manager. Roland told me he wanted to bring me to Chicago to be the number-one announcer for the White Sox, and that he and Chuck would begin to lobby for me as soon as they got to Chicago. He thought he could get the deal done, and just needed to convince the White Sox owner, John Allyn.
I was over the moon. The big leagues were looming. The Islanders’ season ended and I waited about six weeks. “It’s coming along, we’re working on it,” Hemond kept telling me. The job was open. Then, in late October, I picked up the phone and I could tell from Roland’s voice it wasn’t good news. “Allyn loves your tape and feels you have a great future,” he said. “But he just can’t bring himself to hire someone in his mid-twenties and bring him into a market as big as Chicago as the number-one announcer.”
Too young for a big job again ?
The White Sox wound up hiring Harry Caray, who’d been a popular figure in St. Louis broadcasting Cardinal games before getting fired, and then had spent a year in Oakland. He’d wind up spending eleven seasons as the White Sox announcer, and then of course move across town in 1982 to finish his iconic career with the Cubs.
ON SEPTEMBER 21, 1970, I had lunch with Don Rockwell, the news director of KHVH. I remember the date because we talked about a show that the ABC network was debuting that night: Monday Night Football.
The show was in good measure the brainchild of Roone Arledge, the president of ABC Sports. In the late 1960s, the NFL had played a handful of random games on Monday nights. The ratings were ho-hum. NFL games were as much a part of Sunday as going to church, so pushing the last game of the week to prime time on Monday was a gamble. Pete Rozelle was the commissioner, and had experience with night football games when he was the publicity director of the Los Angeles Rams in the late fifties. The Rams had played some night games when he was there, and he believed that televising a game every Monday night could work.
ABC was a
Similar Books
