I wrote about this pending event, here Well, on May 4, 2010 Ernie left us.
I don’t know why, but I wept over this. Ernie Harwell left an indelible mark on me, and I never met the man.
Twelve years ago, I was alone in the surgical waiting room of Crittenton Hospital, in Rochester, Michigan. My wife had just been through surgery for an ectopic pregnancy, and my first child was no more. All of the visits from our friends were completed, and the phone calls were made. I sat on a chair in front of the television. The Tigers were playing in Minnesota, and the only voice in my head was Ernie Harwell’s (he was doing TV at that time). His voice was the only voice of calm in my life at that point. Interestingly enough, his quiet, kind, and deliberate way drowned out everything else.
A little over a year later, I was in Colorado, taking a new job. I was alone again, having left my pregnant-again wife back in Michigan to close out our affairs. The baseball playoffs had started, and I was only able to catch the games on a static-y, old AM radio. The Red Sox and the Indians were in the ALDS, and there he was… Ernie Harwell calling the games. Alone and my head spinning, there again was that calm voice, drowning out all of the rest.
That ALDS and ALCS were the last games during which I had the pleasure of listening to Ernie.
Calm in the storm from a fellow traveler. For that I will always remember him and be thankful for his impact on me.
