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Reflecting on Harwell’s Importance in Detroit

Sep 4, 2009, 9:00 PM UTC

It takes an extraordinarily long-lived person to have lived through aâ†µretirement brouhaha 20 years in the past, and former Detroit Tigersâ†µbroadcaster Ernie Harwell is that. He’s old enough that he seems aâ†µnatural landmark, not a man.â†µ

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â†µâ†µIf you grew up in the Detroit area, you could be forgiven for thinkingâ†µthat AM radio and maybe even baseball itself were merely vessels viaâ†µwhich to experience Harwell. He was and is such a beloved figure in theâ†µstate of Michigan that when Michigan State fans are really looking toâ†µtwist the knife in a Michigan fan, they bring up the 1990 fiasco duringâ†µwhich Bo Schembechler, then the team president, and various other Tigersâ†µand WJR folk replaced Harwell to the outrage of all. Here’s aâ†µspittle-flecked Mitch Albom column on theâ†µdecision that’s as righteous 20 years later as it was back then.â†µ(Michigan fans will insist that Schembechler was just the fall guy forâ†µthe owner’s insane decision. Since I am a Michigan fan, I will vouch forâ†µthis take 100%. That and Rose Bowls are about the only flecks onâ†µSchembechler’s resume.) With the outrage palpable, Harwell idled a few yearsâ†µbefore being restored by new owner Mike Ilitch; he remained the Tigersâ†µplay-by-play guy until his voluntary retirement in 2002, when he was 84.â†µ

â†µâ†µHarwell is 91 now, and has terminal cancer.â†µ

â†µâ†µThis may be a thing peculiar to myself, but the aging and passing ofâ†µsports announcers are amongst the most harrowing ways to experienceâ†µmortality. I remember sitting in a dorm room watching John Cooper pullâ†µoff his second and last victory over Michigan amongst a crowd ofâ†µMichigan undergraduates. We listened to Keith Jackson stumble his wayâ†µthrough the broadcast, confused about what down it was, where the ballâ†µwas, and who was doing what with it. For me, it was Johnny Cash’s coverâ†µof “Hurt”: the devastatingâ†µassurance that you will wilt someday sooner than you’d like to. Theâ†µpainful experience was made worse by one particular kid who keptâ†µsneering at the old, old Jackson as if he were worthy of nothing butâ†µcontempt. I still hate that guy.â†µ

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â†µHarwell never fell so hard. He had the good fortune to work in a moreâ†µleisurely sport, one concerned less with drama and instant accuracy thanâ†µthe slow winding of time through summers that seemed endless whenâ†µyou were a kid and still do, sometimes, in the third inning of a sleepyâ†µweekday game. When he retired he still had it, mostly. Given hisâ†µprevious Lazarus deal, the possibility he might drop in from time timeâ†µtime wasn't out of the question.â†µ

â†µâ†µI don’t actually like the Tigers much -- I like baseball in the abstractâ†µand am usually happier at a minor league game -- and Harwell’s been retiredâ†µfor seven years. But this summer, like every summer, I was periodicallyâ†µstruck by the desire to flip on the radio and hear a Tigers game. When Iâ†µremembered Harwell was no longer the voice I’d here, desire was replacedâ†µby disappointment. In six months or a year, the door that was left open aâ†µcrack will close; I hope I get a chance to sneak through it a final timeâ†µbefore it does.â†µ

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This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.

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