Kalas Leaves 'Perfection' in Wake

WASHINGTON -- Ruben Amaro Jr. can hardly remember listening to anyone but Harry Kalas call a Phillies game. Neither can Pennsylvania native and Phillies starting pitcher Jamie Moyer. And at 46, he's the oldest active player in the major leagues.

That tells the story of Kalas' connection to Philadelphia in years alone.

It only superficially explains how he became a Philadelphia institution on par with cheesesteaks, the Liberty Bell and sports fans so passionate that they'd boo Santa Claus.

"He's been a part of my life since I was born," Amaro, the Phillies' general manager, said.

He is far from the only Philadelphia native for whom that is true.

Kalas, who had just turned 73 in March, passed away Monday afternoon in the pressbox at Nationals Park, leaving a 43-year legacy of broadcasting in Major League Baseball behind. He spent 38 of those years in Philadelphia creating a bond with the fans of the city that is nearly unrivaled.

"We've often said of our fans that the one thing they have is passion," team president David Montgomery said. "Well, I think that's why there was such a strong bond with Harry."

"There was no one who could match his passion."

Or, perhaps, his patience with and admiration for the fans of Philadelphia.

Montgomery, who joined the Phillies the same year that Kalas did in 1971 and parked next to him for 33 seasons at Veterans Stadium, said he had seen Kalas turn down a fan's autograph request maybe a half dozen times in all the years he had known him.

In many ways, the bond between fans and a long-time announcer is greater than the one between fans and the players. Even the great ones like Mike Schmidt and Ryan Howard come and go, shooting across the sky like comets before leaving in free agency, getting released, retiring etc. Kalas was there every summer win or lose, guiding baseball fans in Philadelphia through the everyday grind of the season with his golden pipes and his trademark "Outta here!" home run call.

Of course, the burden of the loss is not only being felt by the fans. The Phillies' players, officials, executives -- everyone in the organization's extended family -- is feeling it too.

Montgomery said the news of Kalas' death was greeted in Philadelphia's clubhouse the same way a tragedy to a teammate would have been.

"That was tough to soak it all in," pitcher Brett Myers said.

"He was a part of our team," Amaro said simply.

Closer Brad Lidge and Kalas shared their greatest professional moment last October. Lidge recorded the last out of the Phillies' triumph in the World Series. Kalas called it. (He was barred from calling the Phils' 1980 World Series -- the franchise's only other championship -- because of the arcane broadcasting rules in place at the time.)

"I feel incredibly fortunate ... that he was the guy who called that," he said. "Now it's gonna be more important to me because every time I hear it, I'm gonna think of Harry."

Kalas transcended the Phillies and even baseball. He was the voice of everything from NFL Films to Animal Planet's annual Puppy Bowl. He did voiceover work in commercials for Campbell's Soup and GMC Trucks.

"The thing about it is you could almost hear his voice year-round," Pat Gillick, the Phillies general manager up until this season, pointed out.

But wherever Kalas' smooth voice took him -- commercials, NFL Films, radio -- he always wound up back at the ballpark with the Phillies every April. Baseball might have opened doors for him, but he never walked through any of them all the way, leaving Philadelphia behind.

"We knew that his team was the Phillies," Bob Boone, who played for the Phillies from 1972-81 and is now an assistant general manager with the Nationals, said. "He was a Philly guy."

"He was one of us when we won the World Series in 1980."

Another member of baseball's tight-knit fraternity is gone, the third in less than a week. Angels pitcher Nick Adenhart was killed in a car accident early Thursday morning and former All-Star pitcher Mark Fidrych died in an accident at his farm Monday.

At least with Kalas, there are more than four decades of "Outta here's" and Puppy Bowls and GMC Truck commercials stored in our collective memory banks. Most Americans who own a television have surely heard his voice, even if it was unwittingly.

"All you have to do is listen to it," Lidge said, reminiscing about Kalas' call at the end of Game 5 of last year's World Series. "That will always be perfection."

Kalas might be gone, but he left plenty of perfection behind.