Miss You Before You're Gone - Vin Scully

In less time than it takes waiting in line for a plain frozen yogurt with blueberries and kiwi at Pinkberry, the Los Angeles Dodgers will begin their 60th and final season of spring training at Vero Beach. After more than half a century of sweat, morning thunderstorms, fungos, and Sandy Koufax pitching tips under the hot Florida sun, the artists formerly known as the Brooklyn Bums will lace ‘em up for the last time from the Atlantic coast.

Bummer dude.

The boys of summer sever yet another tie to their colorful Trolley Dodger heritage and fly the coop from the city that serves as headquarters for the Piper Aircraft Corporation after 55 seasons in Holman Stadium, which opened in 1953.

Adios Dodgertown. Later Grapefruit League. See ya snowbirds.

Next spring, they head to the Wild West to christen a brand new 10,000 seat $76 million facility in the Phoenix suburb of Glendale, Arizona. The 2009 Dodgers will share their fresh digs with the Chicago White Sox. Did I just say share? It seems kind of weird for a team with such a storied and prestigious past as the Dodgers to be sharing their training facility with another team. It’s sort of like time-sharing a new convertible with your mom. Or like wearing someone else’s BVD’s. Eew… Yuck.

Don’t get me wrong, team owner Frank McCourt has plenty of reasons for heading west, in fact, millions of them. For instance, televised Cactus League games will most likely attract more eyeballs because they’ll finally be playing in the same time zone. And southern California hardball nuts will be able to daytrip to camp or take off for a weekend vacation to check out their beloved former Brooklyn Bridegrooms.

And, of course, there’s nothing like that new stadium smell. Ahh. But still. What about tradition? Heritage? Loyalty? Your own parking spot?

I never liked the Lakers and Clippers or the Jets and Giants playing in the same buildings. It doesn’t seem right. But that’s only a small reason why I’m waxing so un-poetically about the past.

The real reason I feel so nostalgic about the Dodgers leaving the tropical confines of Vero Beach is because it reminds me of something very sad (besides steroids) that looms over all of baseball – All too soon, and much to my sorrow, the Dodgers will have to say goodbye their richest, greatest, classiest link to their majestic past - Vin Scully.

Mr. Scully enters his 58th season and, who knows, maybe his last season as the voice of the Dodgers. God forbid. He turns 82 on November 29th. And, just like I still hope for kids everywhere that Santa Clause is real, I hope for our sake that the Bronx native Vincent Edward Scully never retires. Future generations ought to be able to get to know him too. But even fairytales have a conclusion. All seasons come to an end. And, despite his amazing longevity he is, after all, only human. Sadly, at some point the bell tolls for all of us and inevitably Vinny will have to vacate his magical position behind his microphone. At most, he’ll step down within a season or two.

As Vinny says, "I caaan't believe it!"

So, here’s some friendly advice for anyone within earshot. And this goes for all you Dodger haters too. We know you’re out there. Take a little time from your hectic life and catch Sir Vin calling a game or two with his gifted smooth voice before it is too late. Put down the crackberry, (and Pinkberry) stop texting, get off those whacked websites, and find an afternoon or evening to just sit back and listen to Vin weave his fanciful yarns before he’s gone. Listen to him, stream him, podcast, him, watch him, steal him off your neighbors basic cable; no matter how you get him, just promise yourself one thing – you’ll try.

Wash the car, head to the beach, go driving, jogging, whatever; as long as soothing Vin accompanies you. Your stress will melt away with each golden syllable. The still red-headed Mr. Scully’s perfect style is somehow both erudite and folksy at the same time. He can work in world history, Hollywood tales, a player’s family tree, Shakespearean sonnets, a birthday wish here and there, and yet never misses a single pitch. Then, between innings, you’ll hear his long running Farmer John commercials that, I know for a fact, have converted countless starving vegetarians back to meat. No one can resist his enticing and endearing Dodgerdog promos.

Mmm…Dodgerdogs.

Trust me, listening to the words, wisdom, and poetry of the former Fordham University standout will add rings to your tree and put a smile on your face. And, as a bonus, for the first time since 1988, the Dodgers actually have a shot at getting back into the Fall Classic. This is one of the most anticipated seasons in years for Big Blue. But much more on that later this season.
For now, I’m happy I found you, or you found me, and I hope that you take my counsel to relax a spell with Saint Vincent before his honeyed voice goes silent. He’s the sweetest man on the airwaves.

Vinny, I miss you before you’re gone.

On a personal note – I look forward to you coming back to my little feature, The Hustle. I promise to be honest, share my feelings, think before I write, and tell you everything I know about all things sports. You’ll get my humble opinions, ridiculous rants, and silly tirades. Cockamamie theories, new ideas, and half-baked predictions; in other words, the very best I have to offer. I know you won’t agree with my perspective all the time, hell, you might not ever agree with me, but I truly welcome your comments, complements, and critiques. Just try to be fair and informed.

Remember, stayed tuned to Vinny, please read The Hustle by Danny Russell, and give peace a chance.