You couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day in Cincinnati. Sunny and 80 degrees, the weather itself was enough to put a smile on your face. We showed up to the ballpark in hopes of snagging one of the transistor radios they were giving away to the first 20,000 fans to walk through the gates. We arrive around 10:30 AM for a game that is scheduled to start at 12:35 PM, and every entrance has a line a mile long. The gates won't open until 11 and when they do, it takes over an hour before we get in. Long wait, but we cherished every second because this day doesn't need to be rushed. Over the course of the next 4 hours, we'll be in the presence of greatness, one last time.
Marty Brennaman has been the voice of Cincinnati summers for the last 46 years and, even though he would disagree in his humble way, legendary is the only word Reds fans can really use to describe his career. In 1974 he stepped into the 700 WLW radio booth for the first time, taking over for Al Michaels after he left for San Francisco to take over the radio job for the Giants. Brennaman's first game created his first legendary call, as Hank Aaron hit career home run #714 to tie Babe Ruth's all time record. The next year brought Cincinnati it's first World Championship in 35 years. We lived through back-to-back championships ('75 and '76), Tom Seaver's no-no (6/16/78), Pete Rose's all time hits record (9/11/85), Tom Browning's perfect game (9/16/88), a wire-to-wire championship ('90), and Ken Griffey Jr.'s 500th career home run (6/20/04), all with Marty and the Ole Left Hander, Joe Nuxhall.
I remember being angry when Nuxhall called it quits. I wasn't angry at Nuxhall, I was angry with myself for not cherishing the moments we had with him. I always loved listening to him and Marty in the postgame show as we made the drive home from the ballpark. Win or lose, Nuxy would always sign off with his signature, "This is the Ole Left Hander, rounding third and heading for home." A signature you can now see in lights down the third base line outside of GABP. Three short years after his retirement, I made the drive to Fairfield High School, north of Cincinnati by myself to say goodbye in person. He was 79 when he passed. I'll never forget talking with people I've never met before as we waited in line to pay our respects. I spent most of my time listening. I was only 18 at the time and my stories were no match against those who had been listening to him for decades. We were all sad to be there, but there was no shortage of smiles and laughs as people happily shared their memories. Going through that gave me a better perspective on what we have here in Cincinnati. Joe might be gone, but Marty is still in the booth, and I spent the next 12 years listening as much as I could.
At times you would think Marty is crazy. He has no problem letting everyone know what is on his mind, that included the Reds. He made some people angry. Angry to the point that he needed a police escort around Wrigley Field for a short time. It didn't matter to us though. He is as much a part of Cincinnati culture as shredded cheese and chili on spaghetti. He likes to say Cincinnati is protective of their own, and he's happy we have made him one of our own. For me, it's funny to think of him as an outsider at all. In my 30 years of life, Marty in the summers is all I've ever known. From yelling about players and umps, to telling great stories with guests in the booth, to being annoyed during a rain delay because that meant we were going to the Banana Phone, every minute spent listening to the Reds was entertaining because of Marty.
Close to 30,000 show up on a Thursday afternoon. The type of atmosphere you only get on Opening Day around the ballpark. We were lucky enough to snag a radio in the gate so we could listen to Marty one last time while we watched our Reds. It's hard to enjoy a game knowing that the end of it, would bring about the end of an era. The rookie Aquino hit an early bomb to put the Reds in front. That sadly faded away in the middle innings, and after the Redlegs stranded the bases juiced in the 8th, the realization was settling in that we wouldn't get to hear Marty's famous line at the end of this day. It's funny how over the years, I've heard him say it a thousand times, but today was different. Today meant something.
There was no great comeback. No walk off in the bottom of the 9th to send us into a frenzy. The Brewers won the game 5-3, stepping one inch closer to the Cardinals in the race for the division. Though it was disappointing, the ballpark quickly turned into a festival atmosphere. They set up a stage on the pitcher's mound and fans were allowed on the field to surround Marty and Jim Day as they reminisced about years past. They brought up Thom and the Cowboy so they could share stories and laughs. Then they brought up families from the Dragonfly Foundation. A foundation that helps kids with cancer, and was responsible for the tear jerking moment when the Reds won 10 in a row, and as a result Marty had to shave his head. Marty talked through tears as he remembered one of the kids saying, Marty is going to look like us! Thousands stayed until the end.
Marty has said, when he wakes up Friday morning after retirement, he will be the least relevant person in Cincinnati. I hope the affection we've shown him this year has proved to him how much he really means to us. He isn't just a voice on the radio. He's our voice. I have no doubt Tommy Thrall will step in and create a new place in our hearts for Reds radio on a summer night. But the place in our heart for Marty is permanent.
Thanks for the memories, Marty.
- Scott Powell and the city of Cincinnati.
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