"Fly, fly away!" R.I.P. Dave Niehaus, Voice of the Seattle Mariners

I still can't really comprehend it.

Last night, while I was celebrating my 22nd birthday, Dave Niehaus, the man who had called Mariners games since Opening Day in 1977, died of a heart attack. He was 75 years old.

Sportscasters are hard to judge. You can't easily compare them by just listening to different broadcasts here and there. You have to commit to them. You have listen to their voice, season after season, guiding you through a world where every game is just like the last one and yet also uniquely special. These aren't qualities you can just tune in and hear. You have to put in the time to develop that relationship. You have to grow up hearing that distinctive voice on the radio. You have to hear the emotions, during victories as well as defeats. These are the traits that make a sportscaster great. Dave Niehaus was as good as a sportscaster could be.

The Seattle Mariners aren't a celebrated franchise. We've never played in the World Series. We've only made the playoffs a few times. We don't have a lengthy, storied history of rivalries and events. But we have had some great moments and some great players, whose names are etched into the memories of everyone in the Pacific Northwest: Griffey, the Kid. Edgar. Buhner. The Big Unit. Ichiro. King Felix. We stormed back from a huge deficit in 1995 to make the playoffs. We tied the Major League record for wins in a season in 2001. We've seen highlight-reel catches, momentous home runs, liners in the gap, deftly turned double plays and more than a few dying quails. Throughout all of these moments was Dave Niehaus' voice.

For the Mariners, Dave represented unshakable faith and hope. Hope that some day, the Mariners would overcome the odds. That we would succeed and be recognized for our greatness. That our defeats would be momentary and that victory was just around the corner. No matter how bad things got, Dave's voice conveyed the enthusiasm and belief to keep the franchise and the fans going. Just by listening, you knew he loved the game, no matter the outcome. Winning was always the goal, but Dave Niehaus made simply playing baseball sound like the most thrilling thing the mind could imagine. You could tell when something great was about to happen: Dave would suddenly accelerate, almost stumbling over his own words as he tried to share his own, genuine excitement with his listeners. He would scream himself hoarse on air, just as the fans were doing in the stands and in front of TVs and radios all over the Northwest. He wasn't just our window into the world of the Mariners. He was a fan, just like the rest of us, living and dying with the nightly accomplishments of his team. My, oh my.

I do not know what the 2011 season will be like for the Mariners. For the first time in our history, Dave's voice will not be there to comfort us. He's won't be able to celebrate our victories. He won't be able to soothe our defeats. But, as fans, we can remember him and everything he represented for our franchise. Untouchable belief that victory is possible. That a city far removed from the powerhouses of the East Coast has just as much great baseball in it as any other town. That the Seattle Mariners can and will be one of the great Major League baseball teams. Dave believed it. It's up to us to carry on that legacy.

There are so many Niehaus moments and memories I want to share, but one looms larger than all the others. The Double is the highest moment in franchise history. We probably wouldn't exist without Edgar's clutch hit to win the 1995 AL Division Series. And forever attached to that one swing is Dave's immortal call. In the bottom of the 11th inning, with the Yankees up 5-4, Joey Cora was at third and Griffey was at first. Edgar Martinez stepped to the plate. The players, the fans and Dave Niehaus waited at the edge of their seats. And then this happened:



R.I.P. Dave.