A sure sign of just how much Bill Campbell was loved by Philadelphia sports fans is the fact that everyone does a Bill Campbell imitation.
No gathering of sports fans is complete without someone chiming in with some classic "Soupy."
"Oh, baby. Do you believe that. Unbelievable."
Bill Campbell was pure Philly. And pure sports.
That's why we loved him. And that's why we mourn today the loss of one of the true icons of Philly sports broadcasting.
Campbell passed away yesterday at the age of 91. He started doing radio in his teens. Nine decades later, he was still at it.
I guess that's why he was called 'The Dean' of local sports broadcasters.
Some younger Phillies fans might be surprised to learn that before we fell in love with Harry Kalas, we loved Bill Campbell.
Campbell teamed with By Saam to form the summer soundtrack of my life.
I picked up my love of baseball from my father, who always preferred listening to the game on the radio to that newfangled thing called TV.
When I quizzed him about it, he offered the following reply: "I can see the game better on the radio." It took me a long time to fugure out what he meant. Bill Campbell was one of the reasons why, creating a picture with his words.
Each night my father would sit at the picnic table in our back yard, a Tareyton in one hand, a glass of Schmidt's in the other, accompanied only by the crickets, a dazzling display of lightning bugs, and the smooth tones of Bill Campbell.
In the summer of 1964, he got company. His youngest son loved baseball. In particular, he loved the Phillies, and in 1964, led by a dynamic young slugger named Richie Allen and the rock-solid one-two pitching combination of Jim Bunning and Chris Short, the Phils were running away with the National League pennant.
Right up until late September.
I sat by my father's side and listened night after night as Campbell tried to calm the growing panic among Phillies fans.
It didn't work. The Phils did the unimaginable. They blew a 6 and a half game lead with 12 to play. On Sept. 21, Chico Ruiz stole home - and our hearts. He put in motion an epic collapse that will forever scar the Philly sports psyche.
A few years ago, I wrote about my love of listening to baseball on the radio, and how I would sit at my father's side and listen to Bill Campbell.
A couple days later, I received one of the nicest phone calls I've ever gotten in more than 30 years in this business.
"Mr. Heron," the voice on the other end of the line intoned. He didn't have to say another word. That could be only one voice. "This is Bill Campbell."
He had called after a worker down at the stadium showed him my column.
I spent the next few minutes gushing and - what else - talking baseball.
He connected with my description of the reasons my father preferred baseball on the radio.
I told him about my home town of Oxford's crucial connection to the Phillies. He was genuinely interested in what it was.
I told him about a gentleman who lived in Oxford who had a big effect on those 1964 Phillies. The man's name was John Ogden. I knew Campbell would know him. I doubt many other people do.
John Ogden was a scout for the Phillies. He covered some of the hinterlands of Pennsylvania.
A few years before he had signed a young power hitter from the town of Wampum, Pa. Maybe you've heard of him. His name was Richie Allen. Thus was born the 'Wampum Walloper.'
It's interesting to note that as beloved as Harry Kalas was, when he first arrived, he was not the most popular guy in town. To make room for the man who would become 'Harry the K,' Campbell was forced out.
A lot of fans did not care for the way the Phillies treated their other beloved broadcaster. To his credit, Campbell never held it against Kalas.
Eventually we would grow to love Harry, but we never stopped loving Campbell.
He did a morning talk show on WIP. He also did commentaries on KYW.
Campbell wasn't limited to the Phillies, of course. He broadcast Eagles games, including the iconic 1960 NFL Championship Game in which the Birds beat the legendary Packers of Vince Lombardi. That is Campbell you always hear describing how Eagles middle linebacker Chuck Bednarik sat on Packers running back Jim Taylor as the clock expired.
"The game's over! The game's over! The Eagles are the champions of the world. LISTEN!
And, of course, there is one other superlative Campbell moment.
That occurred on a cold night in 1962, in, of all places, Hershey, Pa. That's where the Philadelphia Warriors were playing. Campbell was their play-by-play man. His is the only recorded voice of one of the iconic sports events of our time, Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point night.
He also did Big 5 basketball games.
Bill Campbell was a man for all seasons. So long as they were taking place in Philadelphia.
His voice has now been silenced, but rest assured it will live on in the loving imitations offered by any true Philly sports fans.
We loved you, Bill.
Unbelievable? Hardly. Rest well, friend.
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