I've been dreading this day for several years now. Bill King has just died.
Most of the time when my heroes move on to the otherworld, I am obviously sad. But what made them heroes of mine in the first place, was usually something that happened many years ago, and so the sadness is somewhat tempered by that fact. I still have their writings or music or whatever to appreciate. I mourn their passing, but I'm not directly affected by it.
Bill King's death, on the other hand, was different; even as I knew for quite awhile that it was imminent, much like a star player approaching the dreaded free agency.
The man was still very much in his prime and he was still very much an active part of my life. I listened to his voice describe the events of the local nine at least 162 days or nights a year. He was quite old at around 80, but he was performing his broadcasting duties as well as he ever had. And so, although it might only be selfish feelings I'm experiencing, I am really and truly saddened.
The king of Bay Area radio was a hero of mine because he brought a certain sophistication to sports, without losing his childlike enthusiasm; a rare feat, but a feat that is imperative to my interest in the games. Too often sports are dumbed down and too often they appeal to the right wing of society; the wrong part, as far as I'm concerned. So much so, in fact, that many people of the left, many friends of mine included, write off sports completely.
But Bill was an outlaw, an intellectual and a bohemian; the antithesis to the philistines who dominate the American sports media. He unashamedly watched ballet, read voraciously, spoke fluent Russian and, if his chatting during the broadcasts are any guide, loved good food.
In fact, it seemed hard to tell which he liked more, food or baseball. Every time the team hit a new city to play, Bill seemed more excited about the local tasty vittles than the upcoming series. The chowder in Boston, the cheese-steaks in Philly.
There was much that he didn't like as well. He never talked politics, but you could discern some opinions from his hatred of Texas and his refusal to broadcast games from that state. He always seemed to desire vacation time whenever the Rangers were due to play the bottom half. Yeah, I know it was supposedly because of the small booth, the wind and the heat. But deep down, I sense it was otherwise.
Overall, he was the guy that made it okay for me to love baseball. Not when I was a kid; hell, kids just love without thinking. No, he made it okay now that I'm older and have so many other pestering concerns to dwell over. Mr. King showed me that you could have an innocent passion for the game and not be swallowed up by the simple-minded culture that pervades. He was a fan, and yet he was fighting the good fight.
I'll miss you Bill. I guess we'll all have to keep fighting that fight without you.
I hope there's some good grub wherever you are.
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