Thanks, George

George Kell died today. He was 86 years old and had been out of the limelight for many years. The obits recalled how he won an AL batting title, nipping Ted Williams in 1949 by something like two thousands of a percentage point. It was the highlight of a long productive career that ultimately brought him to baseball's summit, the Hall of Fame.

When I was a kid, he was one of the voices of summer in Detroit, doing the TV broadcasts of the Tigers. In those days, most teams only showed about 40 games, most of those on the road. Kell's big southern drawl boomed loud and clear from wherever the team played. He was cheery without being a homer. He knew the game well because he had been a good player. He didn't try to be anything more than a guy who made baseball games fun for Tiger fans. In short, he made Tiger broadcast entertaining and informative. There were no lectures about lazy players. George didn't have to do that because he knew pictures didn't lie.

Basically, he did a toned down version of radio on TV, narrating the game without getting into a lot of useless detail. He didn't need to engage in a lot of useless banter about players' wives, etc. He simply wanted to tell us what was going on in the game he was doing and the other games around the league.

In short, he was a man who knew what he did best and didn't try to go past that. It takes a certain amount of discipline to do that. And when I listen and watch some of today's talkers, I find myself liking George's relaxed, southern drawl all the more. I never heard anybody say "The Cincinnatah Redlegs lead ..."

The more I think of it, his voice sounded like a cold glass of Vernors' Ginger Ale on a hot summer afternoon.

He once gave me an autograph in a hotel lobby in Boston, talking to me for 10 minutes about Joe Coleman, a pitcher the Tigers had acquired from Washington the year before. At one point he said,"When he learns to control that curveball, he's gonna be some kind of pitcher." That night, Coleman did just that, fanning 10 or 12 guys in a 2-0 win.

The old boy knew his baseball and told us just what we needed to know - nothing more. Silence is indeed sometimes golden.

George Kell understood that fact well. For that fact alone, we should all be grateful.