Vin Scully told Bill Plaschke tonight that if he feels OK this winter he'll come back to the Dodgers next season — his 61st — but then that's it. Retirement? "Yes, that makes sense," Scully said. Then we're on our own, for the first time since the Dodgers have been in Los Angeles. Plaschke:
OK, Dodgers, the microphone is now yours.
You've got 15 months to plan a way to properly honor the most beloved employee in franchise history.
More enduring than any player, more impactful than any manager, more intertwined with this city than the color blue, Scully is not only the voice of the team, but its soul.
How the McCourts handle this will say much about not only their credibility as Dodgers owners, but their place among Los Angeles citizens.
Quick story: My sister Chris was at the Ahmanson to see "Monty Python's Spamalot" the night of the All-Star game a couple of weeks ago. She heard a voice that made her instantly smell stadium peanuts, looked over and saw Scully. He kept being greeted, hugged, pointed at and having his picture taken. At intermission, the adoration continued in the lobby. He was gracious throughout, she reports. She wondered how Scully's voice could evoke such sensory memories of a stadium, where she has seldom been since the 1960s, so I reminded her that when the Dodgers played in the Coliseum and in the early years at Chavez Ravine, so many fans brought radios to games to hear Scully that you could follow his play-by-play in the seats.
By the way: He seemed to like the show.