(This is courtesy of WTMJ, from the Sunday game v. the Phillies)
I fancy myself fairly competent at various things. I can play a decent tuba. I’m an OK curler. I can fix your computer. I can … do whatever it is I do here. You may be good at things too — very good, even. I’m sure you worked long and hard at that thing, and you’re very proud of yourself. All of that being said, it pains me to bring up the fact that no matter what you’re good at, you will not be as good at that thing as Bob Uecker is at calling baseball games. Sorry.
The story isn’t the best one he’s ever told, but it’s a perfect example of how he can weave play-by-play with a narrative. You know where the game ends and the story begins (and vice versa), but it’s almost like the words don’t know. They just keep coming, playing off each other. Bob Uecker is all five parts in a jazz quintet. He’s everyone in the improv troupe, and he’s “yes, and”-ing the shit out of himself.
Did Charlie Sheen really say all those things? Probably not. I don’t care. Because Bob Uecker could read the User’s Manual for Adobe CS4, and I’d still listen. This is art. This is science. This is perfection.
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