Bill Campbell gave us 9 decades of excellence

WILT SCORED 100 against a dreadful Knicks team with 4,124 rattling around Hershey Sports Arena. Lots of them splattered onto the court before the game ended, knowing 100 had never been done before and might never be done again.

Bill Campbell was the radio voice that night. "In to Chamberlain," he said. "He made it! He made it! He made it! A Dipper dunk! He made it! The fans are all over the floor. They've stopped the game! People are running out on the court. One-hundred points for Wilt Chamberlain."

In a gaudy career that lasted nine decades, Campbell did play-by-play for the Warriors and Sixers, the Eagles, the Phillies. Only Andy Musser matched that trifecta. Did Campbell ever think about going for the cycle? He claimed Gene Hart once asked him to work a Flyers game, but he humbly deferred. He was writing a blog for KYW Radio when he passed away at 91 yesterday. Nine decades! Nine!

Campbell would not be happy that this tribute starts with Wilt's 100-point game in 1962. It was in Hershey, for goodness sake. The Knicks were pitiful. There were only 4,124 people there. It had the feel and the texture of an exhibition game.

He would have preferred an earlier memory, the 1960 NFL championship game at Franklin Field, the Eagles coming from behind to beat the Packers, 17-13. Full house, passionate fans. Dramatic finish, with Chuck Bednarik sitting on Jim Taylor until the final seconds ticked off that ornate clock on the brick façade of Weightman Hall.

The Eagles haven't won it all since. And nobody ever beat Vince Lombardi in a championship game after that one.

Campbell was a vital part of our sports history for all those years. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. And what could be more agonizing than a Sixers team that stumbled through a 9-73 season?

"I still liked doing those games," he said years later. "That became an interesting team."

And if it wasn't, Campbell did his best to make it sound interesting. He had worked the Phillies games with By Saam and Richie Ashburn until they were getting ready to move into the Veterans Stadium. The beer guys who owned the broadcast rights got to pick and pay the broadcasters. They wanted someone new, someone younger than Campbell, who was only 47 at the time.

It put a hole in his heart that never really healed. Bill Giles picked Harry Kalas, a guy he knew in Houston, and the media gave Harry a reception that was colder than Moscow in March. A Daily News columnist, who shall be nameless, wrote, "The Phillies' youth movement has claimed another victim, Bill Campbell. Announcer-type fellow . . . Still has the tonsils. Can go from ho-hum to home run screech in 3.2 seconds . . . Does his homework, talks to athletes, lets his emotions tumble through his descriptions . . . oh, and by the way, the new guy's name is pronounced Kal-us, as in callous."

Harry never carried a grudge. Would sooner buy you a drink, then stir the ashes of bad memories. He worked to earn our trust, he paired with Ashburn and became beloved in this town. He was the most fan-friendly guy in the entire organization. Campbell sighed and kept on working, doing other things, doing all the other things professionally, smoothly, eloquently, his wife, Jo, at his side.

Jo passed away recently, another hole in his heart that wouldn't heal. He'd write his blog in longhand and his daughter, Christine, would type it out and transmit it, gentle commentary, honest without being harsh.

Shirley Povich holds the print media record, writing his last column for the Washington Post at the age of 91. Give Campbell the broadcast media record for written commentary at 91. He would have liked that.

It didn't hurt that comic wizard Joe Conklin chose to imitate Campbell in his wild WIP radio bits. There's a riotous, funny version of "Who's on First" pairing my raspy voice and Campbell's mellow tones, and I made sure I got a copy of that.

Which brings us back to Wilt's 100-point game and Campbell realizing, on the drive back from Hershey, that nobody at WCAU had recorded the broadcast. Next day, part of the flood of calls, a fan offered Campbell his recording of the fourth quarter. The Basketball Hall of Fame owns it now. Used it when Wilt was inducted. Used it again when Campbell made it, too.

Ashburn, Kalas, Campbell, all Hall of Famers. More Hall of Famers in the booth than on the field most years. Some lean years, some hapless teams. But Bill Campbell always tried to make them seem interesting, promising, on the cusp of doing something memorable. Did it for nine decades. Nine!

He will be missed.