Meet The Mets -- Broadcasters!

By Deb McIver
Posted Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Something has become crystal clear to me this year.

No, I already knew that most of our current administration in Washington is composed of blithering and babbling idiots, gross incompetents, and/or liars.

So it’s not that.

And no, I already knew that probably 80% of the active major league ballplayers are somehow involved with steroids, and that’s a conservative estimate.

So it’s not that either.

And no, I had pretty much already figured out that the Jets suck, thank you very much.

So that ain’t it, either.

You know what IS it, though? What it is is how good Ron Darling and Keith Hernandez are at their jobs, and how lucky we are to have them in the SNY booth day in and day out.

We’ve had our share of broadcasters in the Mets’ 45 years of existence. Lindsey “Mr. Plaid” Nelson, Bob “Mr. Class” Murphy and Ralph “I’ve Got a Story” Kiner, of course, were the first, and we are still fortunate enough to have the occasional presence of Ralph Kiner, whom I consider to be a baseball treasure, in the booth. As sad as it was when we lost Lindsey Nelson, and then the lovable, classy and gentlemanly Bob Murphy passed, I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like when Ralph is no longer with us. There is a baseball game in heaven waiting for him, I’m sure. Just as I’m sure Ralph has a story already prepared for it!

Those were the golden years of Mets’ broadcasting. Lindsey, Bob and Ralph were pretty close to being our personal friends. We tuned in daily on WOR-TV, New York Channel 9, as much to watch our beloved boys in blue and orange as to hear these three lovely gentlemen, and to hear Bob Murphy remind us that “Manufacturers Handover Trust” was one of the fine Mets’ sponsors. I always thought that was a funny name for a bank! And to see what horror show of a cornucopia of colors and patterns would be the Lindsey Nelson jacket du jour, and to find out which story out of Ralph Kiner’s treasure chest of baseball anecdotes would be rolled out for us that day.

As the Nelson/Murphy/Kiner era wound down, and as cable pulled to the forefront, we had our SportsChannel guys, mostly consisting of Steve “Why Am I Here?” Zabriskie, Steve “I Ain’t Marv, So Don’t Expect Me To Be” Albert (my personal non-favorite), Tim “I Know Everything” McCarver (who I actually mostly liked), and Rusty “I Got No Business Being In The Booth” Staub. We had a few others on MSG and WPIX, most un-notably Dave O’Brien, Ted Robinson, Fran Healy (wait a minute, HE’S my personal non-favorite) and some others, and we had a few years of the frumpy, somewhat grumpy, somewhat unkempt Met icon Tom Seaver, whom I personally liked, no matter how much that might have been a minority opinion of one!

Then there were the radio guys…….some of whom were the same, some of whom were different, with the wonderful Gary Cohen (now in the TV booth, of course) at the top of the list, followed closely behind by Howie “I’m Your Biggest Fan, Mets” Rose.

Of course, in the day, Lindsey, Bob and Ralph did all the TV and radio broadcasts, for many, many years. Ah, those were the days.

But guess what, folks? These are the days, now, the second coming of the salad days of Mets broadcasting, with Gary Cohen and Kevin Burkhardt providing the crunch, and Ron Darling and Keith Hernandez the zesty, spicy and delicious dressing!

Ron Darling has shown what an intelligent, personable, intuitive and candid guy I always thought he was. I remember back in the days when he pitched for the Mets, and the broadcasters always making comments about how he was “too smart” for his own good. Or something like that. He was a Yalie, an Eli, an exception to the pretty much held rule, at least back then, that athletes, particularly baseball players, were kind of doltish jocks who’d as soon smack you in the head as speak to you. Ron was certainly an anomaly, and I don’t think Davey Johnson ever really knew what to do with him or how to get through to him, not really.

I think half the Tums Davey swallowed that year were probably due to Ron.

But all those things that made Ron Davey’s Tums Boy are what have made him a great broadcaster. He’s irreverent, has an intuitive and instructive knowledge of the art of pitching, is self-deprecating, never condescending, informative, funny and direct, all delivered in a nicely serene almost ethereal manner that make him easy on the eyes and ears.

And boy, he are smart!

He delivered, this past year, the best line I ever heard in a broadcast booth, bar none. The Mets were playing the Yankees, and the pitcher, I think it was Ron Vallone, was fidgeting and finicking and couldn’t get together with the catcher, and was stalling and hemming and hawing, and after about ten minutes of this, and the guys in the booth speculating on what might be the problem, they turn to Ron in bewilderment. At which point, Ron pauses and then says: “He sees dead people.”

“He sees dead people.” Can you imagine?

This guy is brilliant, worthy of iconic status, a somewhat hidden jewel in the crown of broadcasting, and a major candidate for the McCarver seat as soon as Fox gets off its collective arse and realizes Tim is little more than a has-been, at this point.

And then there’s the redoubtable, off-the-cuff, insouciant, cranky, crabby, honest-to-a-fault, Tootsie-Pop loving crusty yet lovable Keith Hernandez.

This guy, in the booth, is much the same way he was on the baseball field.

That is, to say, he rules the roost, rubs you the wrong way as often as he rubs you the right way, doesn’t care what anyone thinks, makes sassy and to-the-point observations, and, like Ron, informs without being condescending, actually has respect for the fan tuning in, and makes no bones about being himself, and is so refreshing a character that I almost think he ought to get his own TV show.

Sorta like a Seinfeld; a show about nothing…but Keith!

From his “women don’t belong in the dugout” remarks, to his throwing Tootsie pops to the crowd, to his somewhat cockeyed, pointed and almost painfully accurate and howlingly funny observations, to his popcorn eating, casual ways and eerie connection with the New York Met fan, this guy is a diamond in the rough that I actually hope stays rough. He’s a diamond, anyway you slice it.

You know, being a woman, and all, I ought to hate Keith for his “women don’t belong” remark, but you know what?

You just can’t hate him; au contraire.

And all you’ve got to do, if you’re tempted to, is take one look in the YES booth at the smarmy smiling Yankee-loving sycophantic person of one Michael Kay, and get down on your knees, and thank whomever you thank, for Keith.

And for Ron.

And for Gary and for Kevin, who make it all come together for all of us Mets fans, every evening, during a sometimes painfully short and other times painfully long 162-game season. And they do it with style, pizzazz, candor and humor.

And I already miss them!