He Gone

The announcement by Hawk Harrelson that an abbreviated 2018 season — 20 Sunday home games — would be his last didn’t come as much of a surprise. As someone who has no other options but MLB.tv to catch a game, I’ve found myself over the last two seasons checking out the opposing team’s broadcast more than Hawk when the White Sox played on the road. His analysis just doesn’t interest me much anymore.

And you have to understand, this is coming from someone who idolized Hawk as a kid first learning about the game of baseball.

I grew up with a career goal of basically doing exactly what Jason Benetti is doing now. Even as a 10 year old, I could rattle off every Hawk-ism, and when I’d play catch with my dad in the backyard, I’d yell out “can of corn” with every pop-up he threw or “chopper two hopper” when he’d throw a hard grounder my way. I wanted to be the White Sox announcer when I grew up and I wanted to be just like Hawk.

In 1997, my parents got me SoxFest tickets for Christmas for the first time. With the likes of Frank Thomas, Robin Ventura, and the newly signed Albert Belle in attendance, this was a lot to take in for a 10 year old, but the highlight and what I was most excited about was getting to see Hawk. I remember standing in line to get his autograph and signs all around every table stating that there would be no posing for pictures. I didn’t think anything of it, but when it was my turn to get Hawk to sign my item, my dad stood back with his camera to snap a candid photo of me standing in front of Hawk. Hawk saw this, immediately grabbed me by the shoulder and posed for an impromptu photo, making this 10 year old’s day.

But the end of Hawk’s time in the booth makes sense. I say this, of course, as someone who resides in one small corner of baseball fandom. This new age of baseball analysis long ago began to creep itself into casual baseball conversation, slowly but surely changing the way we analyzed players and the game. Fans like myself devour new bits of information as they become more and more readily available, and a willingness to learn and discuss these more unique thoughts are what drives folks like me to a particular broadcaster, analyst, or writer. It’s what have made broadcasters like Len Kasper and Jason Benetti so popular.

But, again, I’m in a bubble. I surround myself with this stuff, whether it be by who I choose to converse with, what podcasts I listen to, or who I follow on Twitter. Broadcasters like Hawk, even as the new era of analytics seemingly enveloped the game and these discussions, have always served a purpose. There is no way for someone like me to properly put into perspective what it’s like to have been around the game of baseball for as long as someone like Hawk, and there are no doubt plenty of baseball fans who enjoy his perspective on a hitter’s mindset, or the latest story on Yaz. Those folks just don’t happen to find themselves near my bubble all that often.

Now 30 years old, I’ve never known a White Sox team that didn’t have Hawk’s voice in the background. He’s never been Vin Scully, Ernie Harwell, or Harry Kalas, but for all his faults, he’s been the one consistent voice behind an entire generation of White Sox fans’ memories — both good and bad. The partial schedule that started a season ago was enough of a hint that this announcement was in our near future, but it’s still going to be strange when 2019 rolls around and Hawk’s no longer around to tell us who has the liveliest bat since Carlos Delgado.

Lead Photo Credit: Jerry Lai-USA TODAY Sports