Sports
Learning From A Legend
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| From left to right: Temple broadcasting majors Scott Weinhardt, Dan Cymerman and Anthony Stipa are three of millions of young people who were influenced by Phillies broadcaster Harry Kalas, who died Monday at age 73. (Rob Reed/The Bulletin) |
Temple Univ. Broadcasting Majors Among Thousands Who Grew Up Watching And Learning From Kalas
By DREW SILVERMAN, The Bulletin
To this day, Dan Cymerman still remembers sitting in the living room with his father. He would wander onto the couch sometime around 7 p.m. His dad would do the same.
The Phillies were on TV, and that meant an opportunity for Cymerman to watch his idol. But this 8-year-old, unlike so many of his friends, wasn’t enamored with Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra or Curt Schilling.
It was the voice — that voice — that reeled him in, 162 days a year.
With every “swing and a long drive,” his eyes grew bigger. With each “struck him out,” his desire grew greater. With each “outta here,” his passion grew stronger.
While others looked at Daulton and saw themselves, Cymerman listened to Harry Kalas and heard himself — or at least what he hoped to become.
“Just hearing Harry’s voice, ever since I was 8 years old, I knew what I wanted to be,” said Cymerman, now a senior broadcasting major at Temple. “I said, ‘I want to be just like this guy. He’s got a great voice. He really knows how to get to his audience. I want to be just like him.’”
Not far from where Cymerman was growing up in Dresher, Anthony Stipa was getting his Phillies education in Plymouth Meeting. The professor was Harry the K. The class was Baseball Appreciation. And the student was eager to learn.
“I really enjoyed listening to him,” said Stipa, also a Temple senior studying broadcasting. “He had such a remarkable voice and he had such a presence that he inspired me, and I’m sure he inspired a lot of people in my generation to get into the field.”
Meanwhile, just across the river in Sewell, N.J., Scott Weinhardt was nothing but a kid with a dream. He always thought he wanted to go into broadcasting, but he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life until he received a sign, well, from above.
“His voice was God-like,” said Weinhardt, another senior majoring in broadcasting at Temple. “It was so powerful. … He was the voice of Philadelphia, but to some people, he was like a friend. When you turned on Comcast SportsNet to watch a baseball game and Harry was there, you were basically inviting him into your home.”
And that’s precisely what Weinhardt, Cymerman and Stipa did for the first two decades of their lives, that is, until Kalas’ stunning death on Monday afternoon. The legendary Phillies broadcaster touched millions of lives, of which the Temple broadcasting students represent a mere sliver. But to each one of them, there’s no denying the impact Kalas had on their lives to this point and their aspirations for the future.
“He was the whole reason why I’m trying to become a broadcaster,” said Cymerman, 23, whose goal is to become a baseball play-by-play announcer, just like Kalas. “He just had a huge impact on me. When I started watching (Phillies) games when I was 8 years old, I fell in love with, not just baseball, but how you talk about baseball to the audience. So, I fell in love with him. I tried listening to other people, but it still didn’t compare with how Harry interacted with his audience.”
Indeed, it wasn’t just the voice that made Kalas special. His words were magical and his delivery was perfect. He was the whole package behind the mic and a genuine Hall of Famer in every sense of the phrase.
“There was no one else really like him,” said Stipa, 21, who hopes one day to be a sports broadcaster, either in studio or doing play-by-play. “His voice, it was one of a kind. Put it this way — if you were in the other room, you could tell what was going on in the game and what he thought about the game. He was telling a story and he really enjoyed what he did.”
Of course, Kalas’ impact over the last 39 years stretched far beyond CSN or PRISM. His words were immortalized at NFL Films. His voice was the soundtrack for Chunky Soup. And if you ever played home run derby as a child, there’s no doubt that Harry the K was there in spirit.
Over the years, mimicking “Outta here” became a rite of passage in Philadelphia. Kalas was often imitated but never duplicated, though that hasn’t stopped thousands of baseball fans — including Stipa, Weinhardt and Cymerman — from attempting their best Kalas impressions every now and then.
“It’s humorous, but it’s legendary,” said Cymerman, recalling him and his friends yelling “It’s outta here” out on the diamond as kids. “Everybody knows it.”
“If any kid who ever played baseball in the area has not done that, then there’s something wrong with them,” said Weinhardt. “Because you can’t think Phillies and not think Harry Kalas at the same time.”
That has especially been the case this week. Monday was a grueling day around the region and Tuesday wasn’t much better. On Wednesday and Thursday, the Phillies announced various tributes to honor Kalas in the coming days, weeks and months.
The tributes are a fitting honor for a man who had worked for the team since 1971. But they hardly make the loss of a legend any easier to swallow.
“Without Harry, it’s just not the same,” Cymerman said. “This summer could be really tough for a lot of people.”
You can count two of his classmates among them.
“I don’t know how I’m going to watch a baseball game from now on without Harry,” Weinhardt said flat out.
“It’s hard to comprehend,” Stipa added. “It’s not going to hit home until your third, your fourth, your fifth game without him. … (And then) if there’s a big postseason home run, you’re going to wonder how Harry would have called that. It’ll be interesting.”
With a man like Kalas who made such a deep impact on aspiring broadcasters, it’s tough for anyone to pinpoint exactly what they’ll remember most about him. But for the three Temple students, it’s not the voice or the calls. That’s for people who heard Kalas for the last 39 years. For those who listened to Kalas, he was so much more.
“I learned a lot (from him). I learned that you have to take it very seriously, but you can’t be too serious,” Cymerman said. “Be laid back and have fun with it and make it your own.”
Cymerman said what he’ll remember most about Kalas was the final out of the 2008 World Series: “Just how composed he was. He didn’t over-celebrate, but you could see it in his eyes that he was excited.”
On the other hand, Stipa and Weinhardt, while they thoroughly enjoyed the Phillies’ run to the championship last fall, will remember Kalas most for the days when a World Series title was the farthest thing from any Phillies fan’s mind.
“What I’ll remember more than anything is the losing years, when the Phillies had those dreadful teams in the 90’s,” Stipa said. “They just weren’t that good, but he came to work every day — it was his passion — and he got everything he could out of the job.”
“No matter how bad the team is, no matter how poorly they’re playing, (you should) always keep a positive spin,” Weinhardt added. “Show how much you care, bring some excitement, even if it’s a bad game. Make it interesting, no matter what the circumstances are.”
Deep down, Weinhardt believes he has the same passion for hockey that Kalas had for baseball. But despite hundreds of hours watching Phillies games over the years, the 23-year-old didn’t fully realize his destiny until the tragic events of last Monday.
“I was toying with doing play-by-play in the NHL for a while,” he said. “But when I found out he died, it just made me realize, ‘You know what? This guy loved the game so much and I’d say, to a degree, I love hockey as much as he loves baseball. Why not go for it?’ I’m not trying to be like anybody else, but I just want to show people how much I love the game.”
Stipa, Cymerman and Weinhardt all contribute regularly to OwlSports Update — a weekly show covering Temple athletics — in addition to working with various other on-campus organizations, such as the student-run newspaper, radio station and Owl Access, an online program that broadcasts Temple sports.
Of course, all three hope this is just the start of their broadcasting careers. Fifty years ago, Kalas graduated from the University of Iowa with a degree in Speech, Radio and Television. At Temple, the program is called Broadcasting, Mass Media and Telecommunications.
And who knows, maybe the next Harry Kalas will be part of Temple’s 2009 graduating class. Maybe he was even in Studio 3 inside Annenberg Hall on Thursday. Or maybe, just maybe, that person simply doesn’t exist — on North Broad, North America, the North Pole, or anywhere in between.
In case it wasn’t obvious before, we’re clearly looking at a once-in-a-generation broadcaster and a once-in-a-generation influence. Fortunately, there are more generations to come.
“Obviously he wasn’t born and raised here, but he knew the city of Philadelphia and how we felt better than anybody else,” Stipa said. “He knew how to call a game as if he was one of our own — a native son — and he lived and died with the team.
“He really influenced me. You look up to guys like that. You hope that you can be as successful (as him), but he was so important to so many people.”
Drew Silverman can be reached at dsilverman@thebulletin.us
The Phillies were on TV, and that meant an opportunity for Cymerman to watch his idol. But this 8-year-old, unlike so many of his friends, wasn’t enamored with Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra or Curt Schilling.
It was the voice — that voice — that reeled him in, 162 days a year.
With every “swing and a long drive,” his eyes grew bigger. With each “struck him out,” his desire grew greater. With each “outta here,” his passion grew stronger.
While others looked at Daulton and saw themselves, Cymerman listened to Harry Kalas and heard himself — or at least what he hoped to become.
“Just hearing Harry’s voice, ever since I was 8 years old, I knew what I wanted to be,” said Cymerman, now a senior broadcasting major at Temple. “I said, ‘I want to be just like this guy. He’s got a great voice. He really knows how to get to his audience. I want to be just like him.’”
Not far from where Cymerman was growing up in Dresher, Anthony Stipa was getting his Phillies education in Plymouth Meeting. The professor was Harry the K. The class was Baseball Appreciation. And the student was eager to learn.
“I really enjoyed listening to him,” said Stipa, also a Temple senior studying broadcasting. “He had such a remarkable voice and he had such a presence that he inspired me, and I’m sure he inspired a lot of people in my generation to get into the field.”
Meanwhile, just across the river in Sewell, N.J., Scott Weinhardt was nothing but a kid with a dream. He always thought he wanted to go into broadcasting, but he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life until he received a sign, well, from above.
“His voice was God-like,” said Weinhardt, another senior majoring in broadcasting at Temple. “It was so powerful. … He was the voice of Philadelphia, but to some people, he was like a friend. When you turned on Comcast SportsNet to watch a baseball game and Harry was there, you were basically inviting him into your home.”
And that’s precisely what Weinhardt, Cymerman and Stipa did for the first two decades of their lives, that is, until Kalas’ stunning death on Monday afternoon. The legendary Phillies broadcaster touched millions of lives, of which the Temple broadcasting students represent a mere sliver. But to each one of them, there’s no denying the impact Kalas had on their lives to this point and their aspirations for the future.
“He was the whole reason why I’m trying to become a broadcaster,” said Cymerman, 23, whose goal is to become a baseball play-by-play announcer, just like Kalas. “He just had a huge impact on me. When I started watching (Phillies) games when I was 8 years old, I fell in love with, not just baseball, but how you talk about baseball to the audience. So, I fell in love with him. I tried listening to other people, but it still didn’t compare with how Harry interacted with his audience.”
Indeed, it wasn’t just the voice that made Kalas special. His words were magical and his delivery was perfect. He was the whole package behind the mic and a genuine Hall of Famer in every sense of the phrase.
“There was no one else really like him,” said Stipa, 21, who hopes one day to be a sports broadcaster, either in studio or doing play-by-play. “His voice, it was one of a kind. Put it this way — if you were in the other room, you could tell what was going on in the game and what he thought about the game. He was telling a story and he really enjoyed what he did.”
Of course, Kalas’ impact over the last 39 years stretched far beyond CSN or PRISM. His words were immortalized at NFL Films. His voice was the soundtrack for Chunky Soup. And if you ever played home run derby as a child, there’s no doubt that Harry the K was there in spirit.
Over the years, mimicking “Outta here” became a rite of passage in Philadelphia. Kalas was often imitated but never duplicated, though that hasn’t stopped thousands of baseball fans — including Stipa, Weinhardt and Cymerman — from attempting their best Kalas impressions every now and then.
“It’s humorous, but it’s legendary,” said Cymerman, recalling him and his friends yelling “It’s outta here” out on the diamond as kids. “Everybody knows it.”
“If any kid who ever played baseball in the area has not done that, then there’s something wrong with them,” said Weinhardt. “Because you can’t think Phillies and not think Harry Kalas at the same time.”
That has especially been the case this week. Monday was a grueling day around the region and Tuesday wasn’t much better. On Wednesday and Thursday, the Phillies announced various tributes to honor Kalas in the coming days, weeks and months.
The tributes are a fitting honor for a man who had worked for the team since 1971. But they hardly make the loss of a legend any easier to swallow.
“Without Harry, it’s just not the same,” Cymerman said. “This summer could be really tough for a lot of people.”
You can count two of his classmates among them.
“I don’t know how I’m going to watch a baseball game from now on without Harry,” Weinhardt said flat out.
“It’s hard to comprehend,” Stipa added. “It’s not going to hit home until your third, your fourth, your fifth game without him. … (And then) if there’s a big postseason home run, you’re going to wonder how Harry would have called that. It’ll be interesting.”
With a man like Kalas who made such a deep impact on aspiring broadcasters, it’s tough for anyone to pinpoint exactly what they’ll remember most about him. But for the three Temple students, it’s not the voice or the calls. That’s for people who heard Kalas for the last 39 years. For those who listened to Kalas, he was so much more.
“I learned a lot (from him). I learned that you have to take it very seriously, but you can’t be too serious,” Cymerman said. “Be laid back and have fun with it and make it your own.”
Cymerman said what he’ll remember most about Kalas was the final out of the 2008 World Series: “Just how composed he was. He didn’t over-celebrate, but you could see it in his eyes that he was excited.”
On the other hand, Stipa and Weinhardt, while they thoroughly enjoyed the Phillies’ run to the championship last fall, will remember Kalas most for the days when a World Series title was the farthest thing from any Phillies fan’s mind.
“What I’ll remember more than anything is the losing years, when the Phillies had those dreadful teams in the 90’s,” Stipa said. “They just weren’t that good, but he came to work every day — it was his passion — and he got everything he could out of the job.”
“No matter how bad the team is, no matter how poorly they’re playing, (you should) always keep a positive spin,” Weinhardt added. “Show how much you care, bring some excitement, even if it’s a bad game. Make it interesting, no matter what the circumstances are.”
Deep down, Weinhardt believes he has the same passion for hockey that Kalas had for baseball. But despite hundreds of hours watching Phillies games over the years, the 23-year-old didn’t fully realize his destiny until the tragic events of last Monday.
“I was toying with doing play-by-play in the NHL for a while,” he said. “But when I found out he died, it just made me realize, ‘You know what? This guy loved the game so much and I’d say, to a degree, I love hockey as much as he loves baseball. Why not go for it?’ I’m not trying to be like anybody else, but I just want to show people how much I love the game.”
Stipa, Cymerman and Weinhardt all contribute regularly to OwlSports Update — a weekly show covering Temple athletics — in addition to working with various other on-campus organizations, such as the student-run newspaper, radio station and Owl Access, an online program that broadcasts Temple sports.
Of course, all three hope this is just the start of their broadcasting careers. Fifty years ago, Kalas graduated from the University of Iowa with a degree in Speech, Radio and Television. At Temple, the program is called Broadcasting, Mass Media and Telecommunications.
And who knows, maybe the next Harry Kalas will be part of Temple’s 2009 graduating class. Maybe he was even in Studio 3 inside Annenberg Hall on Thursday. Or maybe, just maybe, that person simply doesn’t exist — on North Broad, North America, the North Pole, or anywhere in between.
In case it wasn’t obvious before, we’re clearly looking at a once-in-a-generation broadcaster and a once-in-a-generation influence. Fortunately, there are more generations to come.
“Obviously he wasn’t born and raised here, but he knew the city of Philadelphia and how we felt better than anybody else,” Stipa said. “He knew how to call a game as if he was one of our own — a native son — and he lived and died with the team.
“He really influenced me. You look up to guys like that. You hope that you can be as successful (as him), but he was so important to so many people.”
Drew Silverman can be reached at dsilverman@thebulletin.us
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