Since 1978, 28 men have received the Hall of Fame’s Ford C. Frick Award for broadcast excellence.  This Sunday, July 31, its 29th recipient will enhance Cooperstown’s annual Induction Day.  Few match him for gilding America’s greatest talking game.

"I used to worry about Colemanisms," Jerry Coleman chuckled.  "Now I figure they add to my sex appeal."

Jesus Alou is "in the on-deck circus.  " Cy Younger Randy Jones was "the left-hander with the Karl Marx hairdo.  " Recall Dave "Winfield going back … back … he hits his head against the wall.  It’s rolling toward second base!" Hail the man "sliding into second with a stand-up double.

" Sit back, "put a star on that baby," and laud the 1960 CBS, 1963-69 Yankees, 1970-71 Angels, and 1972-79 and 1981- Padres announcer. This week imagine evolution, going yard.  "Sometimes big trees grow out of acorns. I think I heard that from a squirrel."

In/On the Air 

Born September 14, 1924, our linguist knew the way from San Jose. His road led to high school in San Francisco, Yankees Class D Wellsville, Pacific Theater, and The Bronx in 1949. A year later the second baseman became Associated Press Rookie of the Year.  "He can throw backwards [on the double play]," said Yanks manager Casey Stengel. "He must have a mirror hanging down his neck."

In World War II, a B-29 mirror helped spot Japanese. Soon the pilot of 57 bombing missions added 63 in Korea.  "Bob Feller and Ted Williams were right," said the ex-Lieutenant Colonel.  "What you do for America [13 Air Medals, three Navy citations, and two Distinguished Flying Crosses] counts most."

Retiring in 1957, Coleman became Yanks personnel director.  His CBS-TV "[pre-] Game of the Week" began in 1960.  Instantly it almost closed. Jerry was interviewing Cookie Lavagetto when the "Star-Spangled Banner" started.  "Better keep talking," the tyro thought, and did through the Anthem. Letters swamped CBS.  "Now, when the Anthem starts," he later said, "I stop, whether I’m taping, talking, or eating a banana."

By 1963, Coleman made Yanks radio/TV, having never even kept score.  He was scheduled for a full inning. Instead, 12 men hit in the top half.  "I think you’ve had enough," said his boss, Mel Allen.  Jerry agreed.  "I went over to the corner, got into a fetal position, curled up," and stayed. 

One Coast to Another 

Life on the point.  "You’re so insecure at first that you need someone to pat you on the back.  " Instead, a sadist mailed a record "Famous Jungle Sounds," writing, "Listen to yourself.  " A road twin-bill upped angst.  Tribe lefties Sam McDowell and Jack Kralick are to hurl.  Game One’s starter blanks New York inning after inning. "Sam was a strikeout guy with erratic control, "Coleman gawked," but his control this day was astounding."

In the sixth inning, he learns why.  WPIX New York telephones the booth.  "Is that McDowell?"

Jerry turns to Indians Voice Bob Neal. "Who’s pitching?"

Bob lipsinks: "Kralick."

Four decades later the face still dropped. "They were similar in build," Coleman said. "But even that doesn’t explain how we had the wrong guy pitching."

Mary Poppins moaned, "Things began to happen to me." Jerry’s never stopped. "I guess you ladies wear the pants when your husbands are gone, " he told Dave McNally’s wife. She smiled: "And we take them off when they come home." One warm day Coleman stripped to shorts in Kansas City. A woman complained. "So I had to put my pants back on. Not that I took them off that often, anyway."

Jerry took off in 1970 for Angels television. In 1972, inheriting a hemophiliac, he tried to staunch the blood. The 1974 Padres were nearly sold to a Washington, D.C. buyer. Saving them for San Diego, McDonald’s founder Ray Kroc snatched the P.A. mike Opening Day: "This is the most stupid ballplaying I’ve ever seen." Next day he apologized. Jerry couldn’t grasp why.

Coleman managed the 73-89 1980 Pads. "There’s a generation gap between Jerry and the players," rued Gene Tenace. None split Jerry and his cult. In 1981, he returned to radio, "where I’m probably more comfortable. Most players think I was born at 45." At about that point "people began talking about Colemanisms."

English, Leading off

It irks friends that Colemanisms cloud smart prose, a fine voice, and decency. "Beloved," said the White Sox’ John Rooney. "Like all of us, he goofs up, but the biggest would have been if he’d missed Cooperstown." Many Voices blur. Jerry toots identity.

Said Bob Costas: "His style makes him unforgettable" — Dizzy Dean via Casey Stengel via George W. Bush.

"He’s [John Grubb's] under the warning track." A hitter lined "up the alley … Oh, it’s foul." Dave Winfield led off first — "always a threat to grow." Nolan Ryan has "the most elastic arm ever made by human hands." The Pads waived Glenn Beckert. "Before he goes, I hope he stops by the booth so we can kiss him good-bye. He’s that kind of guy."

Coleman denies saying: "’Rick Folkers is throwing up in the bullpen.’ I said, ‘He’s throwing them up.’" Undeniable: "This is the only afternoon day game in the National League"; "Next up is Barry Carry Garry Templeton"; "Pete Rose has three thousand hits and 3,014 overall"; and "There’s a hard shot to LeMaster — and he throws Madlock in the dugout."

"The 2-1 delivery!  Strike 3!" 

Put a star on these other babies:

?Shortstop Ozzie Smith was so stunned with the news, he lost his appetite right over the dinner plate."

• "Redfern won’t be 22 until October. Hey, he’s only 21."
• "Whenever you get an inflamed tendon, you got a problem. OK, here’s the pitch to Gene Tendon."
• "It’s swung on and Gamble sends a long fly to right, but Gamble goes back to the wall and makes the catch."
• "Swung on and fouled to the backstop. Wait a minute, that was a wild pitch and the runner moved over to second."

The envelope, please.

• "Gaylord Perry and McCovey should know each other like a book. They’ve been ex-teammates for years."
• "Ron Guidry is not very big, maybe 140 pounds, but he has an arm like a lion."
• "From the way Denny’s shaking his head, he’s either got an injured shoulder or a gnat in his eye."
• "Royster has gone six-for-seven against Shirley this year … and there’s a single that makes him five-for-eight."
• "Well, folks, that’s it for the ninth inning. We’re heading on into the 12th."

God bless them, every one.

• "Young Frank Pastore may have just pitched the biggest victory of 1979, maybe the biggest victory of the year."
• "The way he’s swinging the bat, he won’t get a hit until the twentieth century."
• "Bob Davis is wearing his hair differently, short and with curls like Randy [Jones] wears. I think you call it a Frisbee."
• "[George] Hendrick simply lost that sun-blown pop-up."
• "They throw Winfield out at second, and he’s safe."

Finally:

• "Hi, folks, I’m Jerry Gross."

Cooperstown Class ’05

In 1979, Winfield nearly made a leaping catch. "If Winfield had made that play," said Jerry, "they’d be throwing babies from the upper deck." They fell in 1984. San Diego drew America’s Cubs in the League Championship Series. The pivot was a Game-Four poke. "Hit high to right-center field! Way back! Going! Going! It is gone! The Pads win it!" Coleman cried. "In a game that absolutely defies description, Steve Garvey, in the ninth inning, hit one over the 370-mark, and the Padres beat the Cubs, 7 to 5! Oh, doctor, you can hang a star on that baby!"

In the Series, Detroit mimicked Stengel’s Yanks. Punks burned cars, smashed windows, and assailed passersby upon its end. Motowners rushed the field. Jerry aired a post-game show. "At Tiger Stadium it’s only 30 feet from the field to the booth — so somebody picks up the idea of target practice." Dodging trash, he nearly charged the dry cleaning bill.

Next year Coleman added "Game of the Week" to CBS Radio’s 1976-83 and 1985 L.C.S. At 68, he took up skiing. By then, L.A.’s Orel Hershiser had broken Don Drysdale’s record 58 straight scoreless innings. The last 10 stung the Padres. "There’s a drive to right field!" said Jerry. "He’s going to put it away! Oh, doctor! History was born right here at San Diego!"

L.C.S. 1993 history matched Atlanta-Philadelphia. "It was a fantastic game last night," he told CBS. "I’m still trying to figure out who did what, and why." The ’98 Pads’ wrote another flag. The Series again fizzled: a Yanks sweep. A year later Tony Gwynn got hit 3,000. "Right-center field! Base hit! And there it is! Oh-ho, doctor, you can hang a star on that baby! A star for the ages for Tony Gwynn!" One Mr. Padre swings. Another speaks.

In 2002, Jerry, 78, became the bigs’ oldest full-time Voice. The ’04 Padres gave him an open-ended pact. On-deck circus. Karl Marx hairdo. Sliding stand-up double. Babies tumbling from the upper deck. "Sometimes big trees grow out of acorns."

This week in Cooperstown, Coleman’s legend will grow, too.

In 1953, Vin Scully, 25, became the youngest-ever World Series announcer.  At 27, Fox TV’s Joe Buck did his first Classic in 1996.  Mel Allen, 25, called the All-Star Game in 1938.  Buck, 28, became the second-youngest in 1997.

"When I think of announcers who went before, it sends chills up your spine," said Buck, proving that youth in not wasted on the young.  This week the still-tyro, 36, aired his seventh straight Mid-Summer Classic:  Tuesday’s 7-5 American League victory at Comerica Park.

Monday Bobby Abreu hit 41 dingers in "Home Run Derby."  Buck mused if next morning he "could lift his arms to shave."  Boston skipper Terry Francona said, "See you this weekend [Fox's Sox-Yanks]"; by which point a graphic hyped the game; whereupon Joe said, "Right on cue, there’s the promo."

Pro:  Buck was articulate and accurate.  Analyst Tim McCarver, on his 14th All-Star Game.  Fox’s in-ground "Diamond Cam," hailing the personal in an impersonal park.  The pre-game salute to the London terrorist attack’s dead and wounded:  apt, even elegiac.

Con:  Pre-game glitz, more MTV than baseball.  Said a friend:  "Fireworks, players running [on field] like a bull toward a matador," the script "This One Counts [meaning home World Series edge]" burrowed in the ground.  The game didn’t to most viewers, luring an all-time low 8.1. Nielsen rating.

"Wait till next year," Joe said of the National League.  Next year he will air the Classic at PNC Park.  By then, it will be 45 years since Joseph F. Kennedy told son Robert, then Attorney General:  "You may solve the Berlin crisis or not, but nothing is as important as how you raise your family."  Jack Buck’s second-youngest child would understand.

Family Affair

Buck was the 1954-2002 grand stylist of Cardinal Nation.  He raised eight children to think independently — yet it was important to Joe to enter broadcasting.  Said Joe:  "Baseball is that which binded me to the man I most admire."

In 1989, Buck fils joined Triple-A Louisville.  In 1991, he joined pere at KMOX St. Louis.  Before long Joe aired Fox baseball and football:  the youngest to regularly do either.  "When Jack heard something by him," said mother Carole, a former actress, "he’d say, ‘God, he’s good.’"

Pop’s youth and game were umbilically attached.  Some Generation Xers felt it an anachronism.  A sport without attitude?  Sooner grunge shirts with starch.  Joe grew up as trash became king; deviance, first minister.  The culture affected.  It did not overwhelm.

Mojo, rising.  Joe was born in St. Petersburg April 25, 1969.  "If the Cardinals’d trained in Oklahoma," he said, "I’d have come out crying there."  Hannibal lay 118 miles from St. Louis.  Like Tom Sawyer, Joe soon began missing school.  "I’d do homework on road trips."  Mom signed absences.  "She knew how important it was to me to be with my dad."

Buck never took geometry, diagrammed a sentence, or read An American Tragedy.  "I’d follow Dad into the clubhouse, the parking lot, and hold his beer while he signed autographs."  Joe copied him on a tape recorder.  In Las Vegas, he watched the old man play craps.  "On those trips the broadcasting was about the 10th most important thing."

In 1987, the Bucks and colleague Mike Shannon man the booth.  Suddenly, pa says, "The birthday boy [18] will take us through the fifth inning."  He and Shannon leave.  Like Jack a half-century earlier, Joe was on his own.  Entering Indiana University, he called ESPN’s 1989 Triple-A All-Star Game.  Soon junior joined senior’s Cardinals firm.

"Even then, I had to remind myself that it wouldn’t be like this forever."  Nightly Carole heard their father and son reunion.  "You were never aware that they were related on the air," she said.  "But if I had a choice of listening to one or the other, it was Joe.  But that’s a mother talking."

In 1993, Buck began talking on CBS Radio’s "Game of the Week."  Listening, I had no idea that, spoiled by the calendar, he was all of 24.

Crazy Like a Fox

Until 1987, network TV owned an NFL monopoly.  Cable ESPN and TNT then joined the clan.  In 1993, Godfather CBS lost rights to Fox.  Weird to Joe was dad’s network out of luck.  "I was working at KMOX when I heard the story.  My first thought was all the days I spent at the stadium seeing my father do football [CBS-TV, then Radio].  Never did I think of whom Fox might hire."

Mom did.

In 1994, Carole collared Fox Sports head Ed Goren at the Super Bowl:  "If you’re putting together football, you can’t do it without Joe!"  Nodding, president David Hill added baseball, yelping, "No more dead guys!"  Babe Ruth flunked the test.  Nepotism passed.  Buck, 26, became lead "Game of the Week"man.  Other Voices were Chip Caray, Thom Brennaman, and John Rooney.  Mickey Rooney denied DNA.

Ironically, Brat Pack leavening sprung from Jack’s ex-CBS analyst.  Unlike dad, Joe and McCarver fused.  "The play-by-play man [should] explain what and where and analyst answer why and how," Tim said.  "He does both."

The 1996 Classic opened in the Bronx.  Afterward Joe called home.  "What time is the game on?" Jack asked:  no swelled head for sonny.  Interrupting, Mom assured that pop heard each word.  A week later Fox announced a 17.4 Nielsen rating.  "Three times our nightly norm," said Hill.  "That’s why we got into baseball [for $120 million a year]."

Joe grasped the bottom line.  "I refuse to fill a page about what baseball means to me with the typical syrup," he mocked, adding, "Oh, God, pass the syrup."  Its symbol:  a red-haired titan who seemed cleaner than a Gillette Blue Blades shave.  "Not even Hemingway," Buck said, "could explain what Mr. McGwire meant."

Big Mac

In 1997, McGwire left Oakland for St. Louis a slugger but not a hero — "not especially known around the country," Joe mused.  He ended the year with 58 homers, tying Jimmie Foxx for most by a righty.  The ’98ers drew a franchise high 3,195,021.  "McGwire is almost solely responsible," wrote Sports Illustrated, "for this era of unprecedented interest in the Cardinals."

On September 7, Mac’s No. 61 tied Roger Maris.  Next night Fox showed Cards-Cubs.  Buck had scripted No. 62.  "There it goes," he planned to say.  "Here it is.  A new single-season home run champion, Mark McGwire, as he floats around the bases and into the history books."  Instead, Mac hit a text-busting blast v. Steve Trachsel.  "Down the left-field line, is it enough?" Joe said, no time to amplify.  "Gone!  There it is, 62.  Touch first, Mark [he missed, then tagged, it], you are the new single-season home run king!"

I was flying to New York.  The pilot announced Mac’s blast.  Passengers began applauding.  At Busch Stadium, history, fireworks, and 43,688 fused.  "Everybody in the park was a fan," said Buck.  "I broadcast like a fan.  I’m not so sure that on a night like that it’s wrong to act like a fan."  McGwire embraced members of the Maris family.  Blacked out in Chicago, Fox still got a 14.5 Nielsen rating.  "I’m worn out.  How much can we take?"  Mark took it to the limit:  5 homers in his last 11 ups.

Signs dappled Closing Day:  "McGwire, You Are the Man."  Buck was doing football.  Mac faced Carl Pavano.  "Swing!  And it, get up, baby, get up, get up, get up!" caroled Mike Shannon.  "He’s done it again!  Seventy home runs!  Take a ride on that for history!  How — you — can you end a season better than Big Mac has just done?"

Monopoly

In 2001, Fox began six-year "Game," All-Star, and postseason exclusivity.  Joe became its one size fits all.  Next year his ninth TV Series will trail Gowdy (12) and Allen and Scully (11).  Only Curt tops Buck’s seven, including 2000, in a row.  On one hand, cable cut the audience.  On the other, Fox’s quick cuts, miked managers, and FoxBox, a diamond graphic with updated score, inning, count, out, and base runner, wowed.

Buck won a 1999, 2001-02, and 2004 Emmy.  "Baseball is my stock market, my assembly line, my court case, my operating table."  Stock rose in 2002:  The busy camper, 33, replaced lead NFL Voice Pat Summerall, 70.  Said SI:  "Curt Gowdy and Al Michaels are the only other broadcasters ever to have been their networks’ No. 1 Voice for baseball and football simultaneously."

Joe aired two NFL and two Division Series games in a week — "juggling them, marriage, kids, and my side job as a clown" — eager to seem cutting-edge.  SI asked if he preferred nepotism or birthright.  "Nepotism.  It pisses people off a lot more."  Gowdy grew up with Tyrone Power.  Buck kept a life-sized cutout of Mike Myers as Austin Powers.  Curt’s weekly "Game" was national.  Fox’s 16-game menu was regional, began late May or early June, and vanished like Joe at season’s peak.

"That last month they stick him on the NFL," barbed an ex-Fox Voice.  "Its baseball guy, on sabbatical, missing the most crucial time!"  In 2004, "Game" appeared only thrice after August 28.  "Fox is MIA on the pennant race, and Joe doesn’t even do [September 18's] Red Sox-Yankees," said the broadcaster.  "What kind of sport would tolerate that?"

Plainly, baseball.  "I don’t think I’m destined for more than 10 more years in baseball.  I’m enjoying football," Buck told the New York Times.  "The ‘Game of the Week’ isn’t what it was.  I put a lot of work into those games, but you don’t get the same payoff as you get from a great football game."  Fox was not your father’s baseball network.  As clear:  Joe’s grieving, over dad.

A Life Well-Lived

By 2002, Buck had cut his local schedule to 25 games.  "I don’t want to be gone all the time.  I was a part of this on the other end, with my dad gone a lot and trying to spend more time with his kids."  Jack entered the hospital in January.  Unable to speak, he heard Joe whisper, "You have to get out of here and help me through the season."

On June 18, doctors removed the respirator.  Doing a game — "Dad woulda’ given me **** if I’d missed it" — Joe arrived at Barnes-Jewish Hospital near 11 p.m.  "Go ahead and go," he said, unsure if Jack was breathing.  "I have everybody covered back here.  I know what you did in your lifetime and we all respect it.  I’ve been given more than any son."  He would admit to hero worship.  There are worse ways to regard your father.

The son left without looking back.  "I knew what he was thinking.  ‘Get out of here, kid.’"  Jack died minutes later. That week Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kyle also died.  Buck, on "Game," didn’t miss a beat.  "Dad would have wanted me to go get back to work.  I just wish I could call him after a game to talk about it now."

In 2002-04, Joe was named National Association of Sportscasters and Sportswriters Announcer of the Year.  On Opening Day 2004, President Bush graced the Redbirds home season.  "Joe, how do you like my guys?" Bush said of sharpshooters on the roof.  Buck still likes to call dad’s cellphone to hear his best friend’s voice. 

Jack’s signet was "That’s a winner!"  Forget Comerica Park’s sterility, All-Star ratings, or the event’s cachet.  As we reheard this week, Papa Buck was likely speaking about his son.