Harry the K - Has it Really Been Two Years?

Unbelievable. I can still hear the voice, as clear today in my mind's ear as it was pouring out of the radio in the humid summers of my youth. I wrote the following piece the day we lost him. Phillies fans have missed Harry every game since that dark day in DC when The Voice was silenced forever.

Godspeed, Harry the K

It is cliche at times like this to say that life is uncertain and that it turns on a dime, but many cliches become so designated because they are true.

I, like many of the Phillies Phaithful, watched Matt Stairs crush that pitch last night into the visiting team's bullpen to give the Phills a two run lead. I whooped and hollered as the voice of springs and summers without number serenaded the ball with the immortal call as it soared over that Colorado fence. Had I know it would be the last time I would hear that call live, the rich bass elevated to a higher level in direct proportion to the flight of the ball, I would have paused.

No motion, no movement.

Just that wonderful voice in my ears, lifting my spirits as high as the baseball that soared gracefully out of the field of play and into the pen.

But I was not to know. None of us were to know.

This morning life went on as usual. Eagerly looking forward to an early game at three I began to work on a list of things I wanted to get done before the first pitch. Then, some time after one in the afternoon, life did its dime trick.

Over the Twitter wire...

'Harry Hospitalized [Updated]: Via John Finger's Twitter feed, Harry Kalas was just rushed to George Washington H.. http://bit.ly/11TqDC'

I dropped my partially eaten sandwich back onto its plate and started jumping from site to site, offering up fervent prayers for Harry and his family. All sites reporting collapse, rush to hospital, prognosis...not good.

About twenty minutes later the Twitter wire beeped again...

'RT @tzolecki: Tragic news. Harry Kalas has died.'

And just like that my life as a fan of the Phiadelphia Phillies was forever changed.

Life...turning on a dime.

I was shocked at the depth of sadness I felt for a man I had never met. I sat in front of my laptop, my to do list sitting forgotten on the floor where it had fallen and watched as first Twitter, then Facebook, then sites all over the Internet began to fill with that peculiar mix of anguish and fond memory that can only come with the passing of one that is held so dear. Local television stations reported the tragic news as it broke. Thousands of people, sharing my reaction, sharing our collective loss and remembering the life of a true legend.

Harry Kalas WAS the Phillies. Someone on one of the local news broadcasts said that players come on go...but Harry Kalas was a constant, a perennial fan favorite. Harry was always there for us.

When the team was doing well his enthusiasm was contagious. I think we all have our favorite Harry calls when his voice, the joy of victory personified, transported us right into the heart of the game. Every momentous Phillies moment I can remember was always elevated to a higher level when it was called by Harry the K.

When the Phills weren't doing so well Harry was never one to sugar coat it. When a Phillies fielder would make a perplexing decision or a Phillies pitcher would offer up a pitch to a batter that everyone in the civilized world knew was going to result in a massive home run, Harry let us know...but he did it with class. He did it with the hope that tomorrow, things would turn around. Harry helped me stay with the team in their truly atrocious years simply for that reason. No matter how bad it got, Harry always left me feeling like TOMORROW was the day. The guys would turn it around tomorrow.

Harry taught me to have 'high hopes'.

Thank you Harry.

Thank you for your love of baseball and for sharing it with us so well.

Thank you for 'Michael Jack' and 'That ball is OUTTA HERE!"

Thank you for showing us that celebrity and humility CAN go well together.

Thank you for being the soundtrack of my childhood summers.

We will never forget you.