Harry Kalas, the sincere and sentimental Phillies broadcaster whose smoky voice and singular home-run calls were for nearly 40 years as much a franchise fixture as the "P" on its players' red caps, died yesterday at 73.
"We lost our voice today," said Phillies president David Montgomery.
Mr. Kalas was found unconscious in the broadcast booth yesterday before the Phillies' game at Nationals Park in Washington. He was taken to George Washington University hospital, where he was pronounced dead about 1:20 p.m., the Phillies said. The cause of death was not announced.
"Harry Kalas is the Phillies," said John Kruk, the ex-Phils first baseman and now an ESPN broadcaster.
Phillies and Nationals officials discussed whether to play yesterday's game but chose to because, Montgomery said, Mr. Kalas would have wanted them to do so. However, the Phillies' planned visit to the White House today was postponed with no new date set.
The news of Mr. Kalas' death prompted makeshift memorials around Philadelphia and made headlines on newscasts and Web sites across the country. There was a moment of silence before the Phillies-Nationals game, as well as before the Rockies-Cubs contest at Wrigley Field in Chicago, near Mr. Kalas' boyhood home.
"The Kalas family is overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and affection from all of Harry's fans and friends cross America," Mr. Kalas' family said in a statement. "Especially the Phillies fans whom he loved as much as the game of baseball itself."
Mr. Kalas, a self-effacing Midwesterner who arrived here in 1971, when the Phillies moved into Veterans Stadium and was their lead announcer when they transitioned to Citizens Bank Park 33 years later, seemingly was born to be a baseball announcer.
That destiny was clear enough to classmates at Naperville (Ill.) High School that someone placed these prophetic words alongside the 1954 yearbook photo of the blond kid with the impish smirk:
"Harry Kalas . . . Future Sports Announcer."
His fan's passion for the game, his golden voice, enthusiasm and endearing personality combined to make him not just a widely respected announcer but perhaps this hard-bitten city's most beloved sports figure.
"He was so well-prepared, had such a great set of pipes and was a real professional," said veteran Philadelphia broadcaster Bill Campbell, whom Mr. Kalas replaced with the Phillies. "He was just a wonderful broadcaster."
Despite 38 years in Philadelphia, Mr. Kalas never abandoned the tastes he developed in 1950s Naperville.
He favored garish sport coats, white shoes and belts, and cornball poems and songs. His innate optimism was best expressed by the lyrics of "High Hopes," the 1950s novelty song that Mr. Kalas would gladly and lovingly croon in bars, press boxes or buses.
Next time you're found, with your chin on the ground
There's a lot to be learned, so look around:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant.
Anyone knows an ant, can't
Move a rubber tree plant.
But he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes,
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
Professionally, Mr. Kalas was, along with Vin Scully of the Dodgers and Ernie Harwell of the Tigers, among the most respected and recognizable voices in recent baseball history. That voice, burnished by a half-century's cigarette habit, became even better known when two local institutions, NFL Films and Campbell's Soup, hired him for voice-over work.
He was Notre Dame football's radio voice for several seasons and for the last few decades had broadcast NFL games as well. He was inducted into the broadcasters wing of baseball's Hall of Fame in 2002. He won 18 Pennsylvania Sportscaster of the Year Awards and in 2003 was a charter inductee into the Philadelphia Sports Hall of Fame.
Through his years here, Mr. Kalas became a comforting and engaging presence on the Phillies' radio and television broadcasts. He was clear, concise and always curious. His long partnership with the late Richie Ashburn, who became perhaps his closest friend, was marked by humorous exchanges and good-natured ribbing.
"Harry was as good a colleague as any sportscaster could hope to have," said Andy Musser, his Phils broadcast partner for 26 years. "He was easy to get along with, and I certainly enjoyed my 26 years sharing the booth with Harry."
Mr. Kalas was present for the greatest moments in Phillies history. He was behind the mike when the 2008 Phils captured the World Series, when Mike Schmidt hit his 500th - and every other - home run, when Steve Carlton won his 300th game.
