Holy cow, the Scooter is really gone.

It's safe to say that the TV announcer's voice that I've heard the most in my life is that of Phil Rizzuto's. If you're not from the tri-state area, you probably know him from either:

A. His voice in that Meat Loaf song. (I remember Phil once saying that Loaf, that huckleberry, tricked him into doing it, as he was unfamiliar with the whole "going all the way around the bases" euphemism.)

or B. That scene in Billy Madison where Miss Vaughn shows up Billy by giving him a word with those tricky Zs in it to write in cursive on the board.

or C. His playing career--that was a little before my time.

or D. The Seinfeld episode where Goerge gets a Scooter bobblehead doll and loses it under the street. [Edit: was the talking keychain doll, not a bobblehead. Thanks to the prick who corrected me on this. I'm not sorry I disappointed you with this post, Mr. Anonymous. (Who I know from my statcounter is that same old TrotMan7, workin' for that same company that starts with M. I'm gettin' real close to callin' that guy's boss. Good to know he still checks in with my blog that he hates so much, so often.)]

But I used to hear this guy every night. (Okay, whenever we didn't have the sound off because we were listening to the Red Sox game on the radio.) My memories of him go beyond "holy cow" and him talking about his wife, Cora, and his tales of leaving the game early to "get over the bridge."

I just hear his voice saying things like, "LLlow," to describe a pitch, preceded and followed by about a minute of silence. And when a ball would be headed for the fence, he'd sometimes say that the hit "didn't sound right," meaning the ball wouldn't carry out of the park. Or when he said Ed Jurak doesn't pronounce the J like a normal J because "that's how those huckleberries in New England say it." Or when a ball would hit the catcher in the nuts, upon seeing a replay, he'd say, "Oh, it rung the bell!" Or him calling his colleagues by their last name. Bill White="White." Tom Seaver="Seava."

Of course, I also will never forget those classic Money Store commercials. "Holy cow, the Money Store does it again! With rates as low as seven and a half pa-cent. That's right, seven and a half pa-cent!" And if they ever come out with a "Best of the Scooter" DVD, buy it. Trust me. They used to do montages of his "finest" work during Yankee rain delays on WPIX. (When they weren't showing Twilight Zones!) This guy once said a ball was gone, renegged and said it wasn't gone, then went back to his original prediction, all while the ball was in the air. It was like watching a game with your buddy who was rooting for one side.

Scooter was a big-time homer and a less-than-stellar announcer. But he was quite a character. I'll give him that. And I swear to Ken Coleman, if those Yankees use this to rally around, I will kick their asses.

When I was 6, we were asked to choose nicknames for ourselves, to be placed on the back of our Little League uniforms, which were just T-shirts. Mark Giacoia chose "Slider." I chose "Scooter." Not because of Phil, but because the Red Sox second baseman, Jerry Remy, was sometimes known as "Scooter," too. My dad didn't allow me to have that nickname, because to him, it was a Yankee nickname. I can't blame him for that call. Ironically, Remy went on to become, essentially, the Phil Rizzuto of the Red Sox--the little, lovable, offbeat announcer who used to play for the team, who's there with you every night. In a few more years, by my estimate, the "other Scooter" will pass Phil as my most-heard TV announcer, as I'm finally able to get the Red Sox on TV these days.

Scooter, we'll miss you--as your Yanks will miss the playoffs.