"Now Bat-ting...."

I was thrown a little bit while I sat at Sunday's Dodger game. Their longtime public address announcer, Eric Smith, was doing something completely different as he announced each batter. Usually, it's...

"Centerfield, Number 27, Matt Kemp."

The other day, it was suddenly...

"Centerfield, Number 27, Matt Kemp, Number 27."

The change, however slight, was jarring. He never says the uniform number twice. What gives?

And it took me a few batters to figure it out.

This was one baseball public address announcer's homage to perhaps the greatest baseball public address announcer ever to step before a microphone. The Yankees' own Bob Sheppard who had died earlier that day at the age of 99.

In a life where I filled myself with all sorts of New York Yankee hatreds, Bob Sheppard was never one of them. That voice and that resonance was unmistakable and had presided like a Pope over Yankee Stadium since 1951. Sheer class that turned a common baseball game into a religious experience.

Oh, sure, we've heard the way he majestically would introduce line-ups and players. Heck, there will be a lifetime recording of him doing it for Derek Jeter until the day the shortstop retires. But, even with normal stadium business, the man just exuded power. And perhaps even the wrath of God. Just listen to how he admonishes fans for unruly behavior.

That's enough to scare the Cracker Jacks out of you.

I remember when I worked at Yankee Stadium as a vendor. Sometimes, before game time, I'd try to make some extra bucks by hawking scorecards and yearbooks. As I was barking "Scorecards, scorecards, here," Sheppard was commanding over the loud speaker.

"...YAN-KEE YEAR-BOOKS AND SCORE-CARDS ARE AVAIL-ABLE AT....CON-CESSION STANDS...AND FROM STA-DI-UM VEN-DORS."

Meaning me. At the mere mention of this, Sheppard turned dozens of heads toward my direction. And I'd sell a bunch of them in minutes flat.

No piece from me that recalls Bob Sheppard is complete without this. A memory I've shared here before but it is apropos all over again.

The day Bob Sheppard's path crossed directly with mine.

Along with his duties at the Stadium for Yankee and Giant football games, Bob Sheppard was apparently a renowned speech professor. And one of his gigs was at St. John's University. This then morphed into Sheppard doing the PA at that school's football games. Okay, we're not talking the Big Ten here, folks. But, there he was. A booming voice covering every inch of a pretty chintzy football field.

Well, as luck would have it, Fordham was playing St. John's one crisp October Saturday afternoon. Perhaps 150 people were in attendance. Part of that throng was the WFUV-FM broadcast crew covering the game for Fordham. I was along for the ride, primarily because I was along for the ride. I was friends with the sports play-by-play guy and we were all going to a Ranger-Islander hockey game that night. My entire purpose at the football game was to stand quietly and out-of-the-way in the back of the tiny pressbox. In the booth next to us sat Bob Sheppard calling the results of each football play.

Now, there was a kid by the name of Steve on the Fordham Ram football team with a very long and convoluted Polish last name. The good news is that this running back didn't get into the game very often. But, when he did, our WFUV announcers got his last name dead-on. Why? Because I was an insider. Steve and I had been in French together the year before and were even study partners, so we were "class friends." More importantly, it made me a complete and thorough expert in the pronounciation of his last name which I dutifully share with my broadcast cohorts. Hell, I had to bring something to the party.

Around the fourth quarter that day, my language lesson buddy gets into the game at last. And even carries the ball for a couple of yards. Forward motion that is immediately reported over the loudspeaker by Mr. Sheppard.

"FORD-HAM FOUR YARD RUN BY STEVE........(totally butchered pronounciation of last name)."

Don't ask me why I did this. Perhaps I felt that I was the official spokesperson for this kid. But, that screw-up of his last name didn't sit well with me. I needed to step in. I yelled into Sheppard's booth the correct pronounciation. What the hell was I doing?

There was a ten second pause of eternal proportions. And then...

"COR-REC-TION. FORD-HAM FOUR YARD RUN BY STEVE...(totally correct pronounication of last name.)"

So there.

Bob Sheppard, you owed me one. But, in reality, baseball fans owed you millions. Thanks for everything.

Dinner last night: Sausage pizza at Maria's Italian Kitchen.