Legendary Dodgers Broadcaster Vin Scully Dies

The Los Angeles Dodgers say longtime Hall of Fame broadcaster Vin Scully died Tuesday at the age of 94 at his home in Hidden Hills.

“We have lost an icon,” said Dodger President and CEO Stan Kasten in a statement.

“Vin Scully was one of the greatest voices in all of sports," Kasten continued. "He was a giant of a man, not only as a broadcaster, but as a humanitarian. He loved people. He loved life. He loved baseball and the Dodgers. And he loved his family. His voice will always be heard and etched in all of our minds forever. I know he was looking forward to joining the love of his life, Sandi.”

Former L.A. City Councilmember Roz Wyman, who was credited with bringing the Dodgers to Los Angeles, shared this in a statement to our newsroom: "Vin Scully was the most kind, gentle, intelligent person I ever knew. He not only taught Los Angeles baseball, but he also taught us loyalty and respect. He was as great a human being as he was the greatest announcer in sports history."

The New York-born Scully joined legendary broadcaster Red Barber as part of the Brooklyn Dodger radio and TV team in 1950. After Barber’s departure, Scully became the team’s lead announcer, and later teamed with Jerry Doggett. They stayed with the Dodgers when the team moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in 1958, the same year the portable transistor radio became a hot seller.

The transistor radio was Scully’s living room. L.A. fans could follow the team wherever they were, and Scully painted the picture of the great baseball exploits of Duke Snider and Gil Hodges, Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, and the effervescent Tom Lasorda.

Every Dodger fan — indeed, every baseball fan — remembers the great Vin Scully calls: the Kirk Gibson home run in the 1988 World Series. The Sandy Koufax perfect game in 1965. His glorious call of Charlie Culberson’s walk-off home run to give the Dodgers a win in Vinnie’s last TV broadcast from Dodger Stadium in 2016.

But for me — someone who listened to Vinnie call the play-by-play on everything from a cheap transistor radio to a high-tech TV — his best calls were the ones that kept me company when I was riding my bike as a kid, or driving around with my buddies in high school, or walking on the beach.

Like all great broadcasters, he made you feel like you were sitting next to him in the ballpark, swapping stories and giggling at the scenes in the stands.

I shook hands with Vin Scully once at an awards dinner. I don’t think I said anything. It was always better if he did the talking.