Post by TheShadow on Oct 11, 2008 7:56:33 GMT -5
www.insidebayarea.com
By Carl Steward
Staff columnist
NEARLY THREE years after his death, legendary broadcaster Bill King still hasn't been honored by a single hall of fame. Not even by the Mustache Wax Museum or the Hall of Horrifying Culinary Concoctions, as I once suggested.
Holy Toledo, not even by Toledo.
It dawns on me that maybe King was simply too good for his own good. For some strange but also logical reasons, the outside world doesn't seem to believe he was as amazing as we have passionately politicked that he was. Great at baseball, basketball AND football? At least 20 years doing each with uncommon pluck, passion and preparedness? C'mon, nobody's that divine.
Face it, King's versatility may be his curse as far as being accepted by baseball, basketball or football hall of fame voters. Perhaps some of the broadcasting halls as well. Even though he broadcast a combined 73 seasons for East Bay professional teams — 27 with the Raiders, 25 with the A's, 21 with the Warriors — he didn't have one of those 35- to 40-year careers in one sport like halls of fame seem to favor, even if you weren't even that good.
Take Joe Nuxhall, for instance. The old left-hander (as he dubbed himself) spent 60 years in Cincinnati, 37 of them as a laid-back, folksy color man on Reds broadcasts. He was the top fan vote-getter for the second straight year for the Baseball Hall of Fame's Ford Frick Award, even though he was more folk hero than master at the mike. Dizzy Dean, who's been pushing up peas in the patch for a good long while now, made the top-10 cut again as well.
These kinds of guys are standing in the way of King, the consummate professional. After three years in the top 10 and two years as the leading fan vote-getter, King didn't even make the finals this year for the Frick. Appalling, annoying, embarrassing.
But look, it's even worse in football and basketball, where King hasn't even gotten a sniff. The NFL's Pete Rozelle Award is heavily TV-oriented — inductees the past three years have been Lesley Visser, Don Meredith and Dan Dierdorf. Yikes. Last year's Curt Gowdy Award for basketball broadcasting was Al McCoy, who has the magic 35 years in as voice of the Phoenix Suns.
So are grass-roots efforts to have King duly anointed in Cooperstown, Canton and Springfield misdirected? Not necessarily. We should never stop trying for a man who so deserves being honored nationally in all three sports. But let's face it, it might take years. And let's also be realistic: It might never happen.
The best alternative is to properly honor the man at home. Naming a broadcast booth after King just isn't enough. For one thing, that fine gesture made by the A's doesn't take into account the breadth of his abilities in all three sports. Apparently we can forget the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, too, which has steadfastly refused to incorporate a broadcaster/media category.
So this challenge is on the A's, Warriors and Raiders jointly. Please do something meaningful and truly lasting, both for King and for those of us who adored him. When the three teams staged an unforgettable tribute to King at Oracle Arena days after his death, we saw the true depth of his legacy by the wealth of sports personalities who turned out from those three franchises.
"To think, it was Bill King who brought us together," said Raiders owner Al Davis that day as he surveyed the star power in the room.
Can he bring them together again? Let's hope so. Here's a framework: Form a three-person task force made up of one representative from each team to figure out a lasting memorial to King at the Oakland Coliseum. A preference would be placing it on the concourse connecting the stadium with the arena where so many fans patronizing all three sports pass.
Secondly, whether it's a large wall plaque, a statue or something else the task force devises, it absolutely must include interactive audio, like the bobblehead the A's produced of King that launched his booming voice at the push of a button. King's football, basketball and baseball calls could all be accessed in such a manner, or maybe they could just play continuously. After all, in the digital era, you could probably put the entire available recorded Bill King works on a device no larger than an iPod and still have room for his interleague play rants.
Seriously, split among them, how much time and money could such an appropriate and permanent memorial cost the three teams he served so magnificently? I'd throw in the first $100, right out of my own wheezing wallet, to get the three balls rolling. I'd proudly do it, in fact, if only because I believe the price of negligence is incalculable when it comes to the Bay Area's most iconic voice.
It should never be silenced, nor should the memory of it. Let's do it right in our town instead of Cooperstown.
By Carl Steward
Staff columnist
NEARLY THREE years after his death, legendary broadcaster Bill King still hasn't been honored by a single hall of fame. Not even by the Mustache Wax Museum or the Hall of Horrifying Culinary Concoctions, as I once suggested.
Holy Toledo, not even by Toledo.
It dawns on me that maybe King was simply too good for his own good. For some strange but also logical reasons, the outside world doesn't seem to believe he was as amazing as we have passionately politicked that he was. Great at baseball, basketball AND football? At least 20 years doing each with uncommon pluck, passion and preparedness? C'mon, nobody's that divine.
Face it, King's versatility may be his curse as far as being accepted by baseball, basketball or football hall of fame voters. Perhaps some of the broadcasting halls as well. Even though he broadcast a combined 73 seasons for East Bay professional teams — 27 with the Raiders, 25 with the A's, 21 with the Warriors — he didn't have one of those 35- to 40-year careers in one sport like halls of fame seem to favor, even if you weren't even that good.
Take Joe Nuxhall, for instance. The old left-hander (as he dubbed himself) spent 60 years in Cincinnati, 37 of them as a laid-back, folksy color man on Reds broadcasts. He was the top fan vote-getter for the second straight year for the Baseball Hall of Fame's Ford Frick Award, even though he was more folk hero than master at the mike. Dizzy Dean, who's been pushing up peas in the patch for a good long while now, made the top-10 cut again as well.
These kinds of guys are standing in the way of King, the consummate professional. After three years in the top 10 and two years as the leading fan vote-getter, King didn't even make the finals this year for the Frick. Appalling, annoying, embarrassing.
But look, it's even worse in football and basketball, where King hasn't even gotten a sniff. The NFL's Pete Rozelle Award is heavily TV-oriented — inductees the past three years have been Lesley Visser, Don Meredith and Dan Dierdorf. Yikes. Last year's Curt Gowdy Award for basketball broadcasting was Al McCoy, who has the magic 35 years in as voice of the Phoenix Suns.
So are grass-roots efforts to have King duly anointed in Cooperstown, Canton and Springfield misdirected? Not necessarily. We should never stop trying for a man who so deserves being honored nationally in all three sports. But let's face it, it might take years. And let's also be realistic: It might never happen.
The best alternative is to properly honor the man at home. Naming a broadcast booth after King just isn't enough. For one thing, that fine gesture made by the A's doesn't take into account the breadth of his abilities in all three sports. Apparently we can forget the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, too, which has steadfastly refused to incorporate a broadcaster/media category.
So this challenge is on the A's, Warriors and Raiders jointly. Please do something meaningful and truly lasting, both for King and for those of us who adored him. When the three teams staged an unforgettable tribute to King at Oracle Arena days after his death, we saw the true depth of his legacy by the wealth of sports personalities who turned out from those three franchises.
"To think, it was Bill King who brought us together," said Raiders owner Al Davis that day as he surveyed the star power in the room.
Can he bring them together again? Let's hope so. Here's a framework: Form a three-person task force made up of one representative from each team to figure out a lasting memorial to King at the Oakland Coliseum. A preference would be placing it on the concourse connecting the stadium with the arena where so many fans patronizing all three sports pass.
Secondly, whether it's a large wall plaque, a statue or something else the task force devises, it absolutely must include interactive audio, like the bobblehead the A's produced of King that launched his booming voice at the push of a button. King's football, basketball and baseball calls could all be accessed in such a manner, or maybe they could just play continuously. After all, in the digital era, you could probably put the entire available recorded Bill King works on a device no larger than an iPod and still have room for his interleague play rants.
Seriously, split among them, how much time and money could such an appropriate and permanent memorial cost the three teams he served so magnificently? I'd throw in the first $100, right out of my own wheezing wallet, to get the three balls rolling. I'd proudly do it, in fact, if only because I believe the price of negligence is incalculable when it comes to the Bay Area's most iconic voice.
It should never be silenced, nor should the memory of it. Let's do it right in our town instead of Cooperstown.