Nobody Was Better in a Jam

What I’ll miss most is laughing. Has there ever been a better man to ride across town with than Chick Hearn?

When the 405 was a parking lot, when it took four cycles to finally get the arrow to let you turn left, when 10 minutes of light rain turned the basin into a full SigAlert, you still had Chick. When your 30-minute trip home became an hour and 30, and the landscape was a sea of brake lights, you still had Chick, the commuter’s best pal. He was your free pass into the diamond lane.

I never listened to Chick for more than five minutes without laughing. I don’t mean a chuckle or a giggle, I mean that all-out tears-in-your-eyes, straight out-of-your stomach air burst. He was the full guffaw. And he’d make you laugh only after he exhibited every skill that made him a phenomenal broadcaster--his unmatched descriptions, his unparalleled knowledge of game strategy and the sport’s history, his ability to match his cadence with the flow of the action, his understanding of the art of one-way communication.

What a heart he had! His joy was your joy. When you’d run into Chick, it was never about Chick. The conversation was lively, spirited, sharp, poignant and often compelling--much like his broadcasts. Oh, he could be curmudgeonly, but you knew that never went beyond his exterior. He’d love to make you smile, make you feel good, make you feel more alive.

How he did that--in fact, how he did anything--was a constant source of amazement to me and many who knew him. How did he go on after absorbing the worst body blows that ever could be delivered? Every parent’s definition of “horrific” is to outlive your child, so what word could describe outliving two children, your only two? Somehow, for the last 30 years, that constantly aching heart let that marvelous brain function so brilliantly. How, we’ll never know.

No one in the history of his profession ever crossed the line between radio and television so seamlessly. A broadcaster in that environment runs the risk of overtalking to his television audience and undertalking to those just listening. No one understood how to straddle that line better than Chick. But then again, if you were a Laker fan, no matter the method of delivery, you would only accept your news from one messenger. And, if the score came in by Pony Express, Chick had to be riding the horse.

He was an artist. He took a blank canvas at tipoff and by the final horn had turned it into his beautiful and vivid and vibrant aural mosaic. The grandest compliment a sportscaster can receive after a dramatic contest is for someone to say, “He was as good as the game.” Well, Chick was always as good as the game, and on many nights, far better. Frankly, if the Lakers were playing the Cavaliers in November, you didn’t even need a game, as long as you had Chickie Baby.

For 42 years, the Lakers have provided us with the sweetest music. From Elgin and Jerry to Wilt and Kareem, from Magic to Kobe and Shaq, these wonderful melodies have stirred the passions of millions of Southern Californians. Oh sure, we could have appreciated it all as one long instrumental. But think what we’d have missed. For my money, the most incredible and indelible lyrics the sportscasting profession has ever produced.

Francis Dayle Hearn.

The greatest basketball broadcaster of all time?

Slaaaaaammmmm dunk!!!!

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Al Michaels, a longtime broadcaster for ABC, went to Hamilton High and lives in Los Angeles.

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ARRANGEMENTS

The funeral: Chick Hearn’s funeral will be held at 11 a.m. today at St. Martin of Tours church in Brentwood. It will be televised by Channels 2, 4, 7, 9, Fox Sports Net and Fox Sports Net 2.

The public: The public can watch the funeral at Staples Center as part of a tribute that will run from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.