http://stlouis.cardinals.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/mlb/events/obits/mlb_obit_jack_buck.jsp What a voice. I loved hearing him call a game. RIP.
fitting tribute by Bernie Miklasz, of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch The great, familiar, famous voice has gone silent now. For decades, Jack Buck provided the soundtrack of the St. Louis summer. He brought baseball to life for generations of Cardinals fans. Each season he took us from April to October. He was our companion, our tour guide, our historian, our friend, the man we entrusted with this precious St. Louis tradition of baseball. He was there in backyards, when families gathered around a grill and a picnic table to listen to the Cardinals on KMOX. He was there on the front porches of a breezy, cozy evening, his friendly voice meeting us under the night-time stars. His voice was in the hospital rooms, providing comfort for patients who wanted to stay in touch with their favorite team. He was in the nursing homes, and the schools, and the golf courses, and on the lakes. All we needed were batteries for the radio, and he would take care of the rest. He was under the pillow, late at night, as kids smuggled their radios into bed, to stay up late and monitor a distant game from the West Coast. He provided the lullaby, as the youngsters drifted off to sleep, happy in knowing that the Cardinals were winning the game. He was in the car, traveling with us, a pal who always made us feel closer to home, no matter where the road led us, as long as we could receive the radio signal that all but placed him on the passenger side, going along for the ride. He described them all, from Stan Musial to Bob Gibson to Ozzie Smith to Mark McGwire to Albert Pujols. His words were the link that connected them all. He was there at Sportsman's Park, and he was there at Busch Stadium, and he was at all the road games. When you heard his voice warming up in that first broadcast from spring training, you knew that baseball was about to return, and it was time to be hopeful, time to worry, time to wait and see what the new season would bring. He was part of the family. How many grandparents and parents and sons and daughters shared the experience of listening to Cardinals games together? There could be friction in the family. Maybe a dad and his son weren't getting along. And maybe Jack Buck helped bring them back together, because the Cardinals were a common bond. He was the guy who never said no to kids who wanted an autograph, or anyone who wanted him to pose for a photo. He emceed dinners and fund-raisers, ate more banquet chicken than any person in this city's history, and raised millions of dollars in charity. And he was the funniest speaker we've ever heard. His one- liners, his zingers, were legendary. He could have been a comedy star, as big as anyone in the business. The best playbook in town was Jack Buck's joke book; those who had to do public, sports-related speaking snatched Jack's best material and used it as their own. Jack went national, calling football games and baseball games for the networks, but always returned home. He never sold out, never forgot where he lived. He never wanted to be in New York, or Los Angeles. On these trips out of town, he always left his heart in St. Louis, and St. Louis was the only place he wanted to live. And the other prominent national broadcasters in our town through the years — Bob Costas, Dan Dierdorf, Dan Kelly — followed suit. For a tough guy who survived a blast of shrapnel in World War II, he was a soft touch. He'd see a poor person on the street and peel off $20. He was a lavish tipper, the favorite of bellhops and waiters around the nation. One time, during the NFL season, a visiting team's PR man traveled to St. Louis to advance the game, and he was all alone on Thanksgiving. At least until Jack Buck found out about it, and had him over to the house to enjoy the dinner that Carole Buck had prepared. Nearing the end of the life, as he battled Parkinson's disease, Jack Buck realized how much he wanted to live. The sweetness within him found a fulfilling outlet through poetry. He would sit down and scrawl a poem. He'd read it to his friends with a wavering voice, overcome by emotion. And when he stopped reading, Jack would pull a hanky from his pocket to wipe away the tears, and you knew how much he savored each moment of being alive. In Jack's final days, his dear son Joe Buck would read to Jack late at night in the hospital room. Joe would lovingly read all of your letters and cards and notes. Jack Buck, 77, knew he was dying, but he held on longer than the doctors believed was possible. Joe Buck said the fans sustained his father. Joe would read the beautiful tributes, all of the stories about how Jack had enriched their lives. And with the lights dimmed, in the quiet of the night, Joe would look close into his father's eyes, and he could see his dad smiling. On the night Jack Buck died, the Cardinals defeated the Anaheim Angels 7-2 with Joe doing a masterful job of putting his emotions aside to call the game on TV, to serve the fans. Just what you would expect from Jack Buck's son. That's a winner. I heard an interview with him today and he mentioned that his bosses at the paper wanted him to prepare a triibute article for Jack Buck over a month ago... just in case he were to pass away... HOW CLASSLESS!!! thank goodness this guy put his foot down firmly and refused!
