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At 12, I was
a Warriors fan, in the Rick-Barry-on-the-radio days, but at 21 I
became a die hard Lakers fan. It wasn't just Magic, Kareem,
Worthy and Coop that stole me away, but the dynamic game calls of
"Old Golden Throat", Chick Hearn, whose "jersey" is hanging at the
Staples Center next to those of other Laker greats. Chick was
no nonsense and announced 3,338 games in a row. When the games
became more available on television we turned down the audio and
"watched" on the radio until the network wised up and had "Chicky
Baby" simulcast. Chick routinely invented colorful
descriptions of the game action (some have been added to the English
lexicon) - so here's a sample: it's nervous time, it'll count if it
goes...it goes, in and out - heartbreak, no look pass, dribble
drive, slam dunk, finger roll, stutter step, give and go, matador
defense, throws up a brick, ticky-tack foul, charity stripe, triple
double, frozen rope, put the baby to bed, pressure cooker, colder
than a delicatessen turkey, hangs in the air, Kamakaze steal, sent
back airmail special, didn't draw iron, high archer, leaping leaner,
nailed to the floor, that was so obvious you could call it with
Braille, swallows the whistle, mascara call, bunny hop in the pea
patch, picked his pocket, faked him into the popcorn machine (he's
covered in butter), faked him out of his socks, camping in the lane,
so many turnovers they could start a bakery, using the rim as an
ally, yo-yo-ing up and down, sky hook, baby hook, swing left shoot
right (and vice verse), they couldn't beat the sisters of the poor,
he couldn't shoot a pea into the ocean if he was standing in a boat,
the eggs are coolin' and the jello's jigglin' (it's in the
refrigerator), 30 foot lay-up (re. Jamaal "The Silk" Wilkes),
somebody must have left a door open (therefore the air ball), that
ball's going to come down wet (a la the Purvis Short very high
arching shot), King Kong on a ladder couldn't have reached that
pass, he was inside his jersey on that defense, the coach is
pounding the Wrigley's, attacking 47 feet of this 50 by 94 chunk of
wood, caught with his hand in the cookie jar (reaching foul), the
mustard's off the hotdog, beating a tattoo down the court, back and
forth like a windshield wiper (Hakeem Olajuwon setting up a shot),
no harm - no foul - no blood - no ambulance, the boo-birds are out
tonight, 17,505 referees here tonight but only three of them are
getting paid, if the Lakers lose I'll buy everybody a hotdog (he
rarely had to shell out), you're having Chicken Stew (as in Chick
and Stu Lance) tonight, and...if there's really 17,505 here tonight,
a lot of them are dressed like seats. Thank you, Marge, for
sharing your marvelous Mr. Hearn with us. |
