From the corner of Hamilton and Rosenhaus: An eventful day in the Indians’ radio booth
Zack Meisel 3h ago 6
As Tom Hamilton pins some stat sheets to a whiteboard in the Indians’ radio booth, a voice disrupts his train of thought.
“Thirty seconds!”
Hamilton glances toward the back of the room, where I’m sitting on an old green metal bleacher seat nailed atop a mini stage.
“See what we put up with?” he jokes.
“Ten seconds, Mr. Hamilton,” radio engineer Stephanie Hagele says in the most lightheartedly polite tone possible.
“And then the sarcasm just oozes,” Hamilton says.
Hamilton returns to his leather chair, headset on, and welcomes viewers back to the action. This is his 30th season behind the microphone for the Indians, the last 13 with Jim Rosenhaus by his side. Hagele has steered the ship from Booth 3 at Progressive Field for the last six years.
Last week, I spent a day in the team’s radio booth, listening to the banter between broadcasters, observing the preparation for and delivery of nine innings’ worth of material and witnessing a memorable scene featuring Marty Brennaman, the longtime voice of the Reds. Here’s a chronicle of how the day unfolded, with Hamilton’s radio commentary in italics.
From Progressive Field in downtown Cleveland, Ohio, it is game No. 67. Today, the Cleveland Indians and Cincinnati Reds wrap up this brief, two-game series. Hi again, everybody, Tom Hamilton, Jim Rosenhaus, Stephanie Hagele here in the booth.
Before each game, Hamilton and Rosenhaus make the rounds in the clubhouse, gaining insights they can store for the broadcast.
“You hope you don’t have to use 90 percent of it,” Hamilton says. If the game offers enough entertainment, they won’t need as much filler.
Hamilton spends a few minutes in Terry Francona’s office each afternoon. They record a segment for the pregame show and often chat about college hoops. Then, Hamilton sits at the round table in the booth, fills out his lineup sheet and scans stat packs and game notes.
While Rosenhaus wraps up the pregame show, Hamilton grabs a plate of food from press dining. He isn’t really feeling “top round,” the mystery meat being served, so nine minutes before first pitch, he scarfs down a granola bar. The refrigerator in the booth contains only granola bars, water bottles and ketchup. The Radio Booth Food Pyramid is shaped more like a deflated basketball.
On the desk in front of Hamilton lies a graveyard of stat sheets and media guides, a pair of binoculars, a sunglasses case, a yellow highlighter and his phone.
One important note for later: That phone has not been placed on silent or vibrate.
After Hamilton recites that familiar greeting, he describes the flawless weather and then cites the Indians’ second-place standing in the AL Central, behind the upstart Twins.
Everyone keeps saying, “They’ll come back to the pack.” I don’t know. They keep winning. And the Minnesota Twins now with the best record in baseball.
During his monologue, Hamilton isn’t staring at a script. In fact, he’s arranging his belongings to ease the burden of pinpointing a stat or some background information during the game.
Plesac kicks, fires, Senzel swings and fouls it back and we’re underway at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. A delightful 74 degrees, bathed in sunshine.
Hamilton sits on the right, Rosenhaus on the left. There’s a TV screen in each corner of the desk, and both broadcasters have their laptop screens tuned to the MLB Gameday feed.
Senzel racks one to deep left field … it is GONE to the home-run porch.
Well, that was quick.
Hamilton suggests Plesac and Senzel, a couple of rookies, could square off for years to come during the annual Battle of Ohio. He then points out the Cleveland battery’s Indiana roots. Hamilton is a college baseball connoisseur. Plesac attended Ball State. Plawecki starred at Purdue.
And Votto homers. Two batters, two home runs.
The Reds have the early 2-0 lead and a lot of folks are still out on the plaza trying to get into the ballpark, going, “What the heck is going on?”
“Sometimes when there isn’t a big crowd, you can hear either he or Rosey,” Dan Otero said, “depending on who’s on that inning. You can hear him while you’re warming up in the bullpen or if you’re sitting down in the back. When you’re warming up, sometimes it’s weird. You start throwing and all of a sudden you hear Hammy’s voice — ‘And now, the Tribe has action in the bullpen. Otero’s loosening up.’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. Yes, I am.’”
Hamilton raises his voice when Senzel and Jose Peraza collide in the outfield in the bottom of the first. Rosenhaus chimes in for the first time, to say Senzel appeared to injure his lower right leg. Both players remain in the game, to their surprise.
Each plate appearance presents a new set of details for Hamilton to describe: defensive shifts, pitching strategy, a hitter’s recent feats or funk. He sprinkles in an advertisement from time to time, too.
Hamilton realizes he’s been improperly pronouncing the surname of Reds starter Anthony DeSclafani, using an “ee” sound on the penultimate syllable instead of an “ah” sound. He’s quick to correct himself.
DeSclafani only made nine pitches in that first inning. It’s one in the books. Reds 2, Indians nothing on the Cleveland Indians radio network.
He removes his headset and wonders aloud whether Senzel and Peraza will keep playing.
In the top of the second, Jose Iglesias watches a 95 mph fastball whiz past for a called third strike. Reds manager David Bell emerges from the visitors dugout.
Strike. Three. Called. Painted the outside corner with a fastball. Heeee just got thrown out of the game. He didn’t even GET to home plate. Now David Bell will get his money’s worth. … You’re never going to win an argument arguing balls and strikes.
Indians baseball information director Bart Swain announces over the PA system that Bell had not been ejected, even though home-plate umpire Lance Barrett signaled for it.
Well, somebody got thrown out!
Plesac strikes out Curt Casali to end the inning, and word trickles up to the press box that Cincinnati hitting coach Turner Ward — who made his major-league debut with the Indians in 1990, Hamilton’s first season — was the one booted from the contest.
Well, that doesn’t surprise me. He could have a short fuse once in a while. Nothing wrong with that. 2-0 Reds, middle of the second.
As Tyler Naquin bats in the bottom of the second, Hamilton explains that Jason Kipnis is receiving an extra day to rest his sore hip. Naquin takes a couple of borderline called strikes.
Hey, I see why Turner Ward got thrown out from this game. This guy’s not very good. Turner says, “Hey, come on over. I need company.” … He did not feel like Lance Barrett had a recent eye exam; he was just trying to help him. You should have one once a year.
Rosenhaus reports that utilityman Mike Freeman prepares as if he will play every day. Hamilton counters that if a player arrives at the ballpark and acts surprised to see his name in the lineup, he’s not in good shape.
Kind of like that pop quiz in high school. “Dang it, I didn’t study for it. I didn’t know she was going to do it today.” That’s when you come up with that tummy ache and you head home before you have to take the test.”
There’s one perfect example of that scenario. But we’ll get to that.
Rosenhaus credits Jake Bauers for hustling down the line to record an infield single.
Manny Machado would’ve already been going to the bench to get his glove.
Hamilton again mentions the picturesque weather.
Finally, summer has arrived — with a downpour tomorrow. Hope you enjoyed it.
Marty Brennaman and Tom Hamilton. (Zack Meisel / The Athletic)
Brennaman enters the booth. He has served as the voice of the Reds since 1974. He earned the Ford C. Frick Award in 2000 from the National Baseball Hall of Fame. He’s a member of the National Radio Hall of Fame.
“This will be the low point of your career,” Hamilton quips.
Brennaman jokes that he must be careful “not to drop any F-bombs.” As he settles into Rosenhaus’ seat, Rosenhaus asks whether he can update his scorebook after each play.
The broadcast returns from commercial and Hamilton introduces Brennaman, who is retiring at the end of the season. He asks Brennaman whether he would call the action in the third inning.
“Seriously?” Brennanman replied, with a hint of sarcasm. “I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t have anything to look at here.”
Francona developed a friendship with Brennaman when he played for the Reds in 1987. When the two cross paths, laughter and profanity follow.
So when Francona was informed it was Brennaman’s final visit to Progressive Field, the manager replied: “Thank God.”
“It was he and Joe Nuxhall,” Francona said. “They just took a liking to me. I was like the team mascot. I wasn’t very good, but I tried hard. If you give it your all, (Marty) respects that. But he’s just been a friend since then. I think he’s a friend. And some of those voicemails he leaves me are historic. Like, I didn’t know somebody could curse that much in one sentence. But I love him. And when I picture him, I still see Joe next to him. To me, that was what baseball was, where you could listen to a game and feel like they’re sitting in your living room going back and forth. I just thought the world of both of them.
“And he seems happy as can be that he’s retiring. Good for him. I hope his wife’s a saint.”
Says Brennaman: “All I want to do is sit on my butt and watch television, Netflix, Amazon Prime. I’d move to Italy tomorrow morning if they said they had a place in wine country.”
Hamilton and Brennaman reminisce about the Big Red Machine of the 1970s and compare the group to the powerhouse Indians teams from the ’90s. The third out arrives quickly, and after Brennaman described Votto’s groundout, he stared at Hamilton, waiting for instruction on whether he was returning for the bottom half of the frame.
“Yeah,” Brennaman said, “I might stay here for the rest of the day.”
The Indians gave Brennaman a weekend golf and spa getaway at The Phoenician in Scottsdale, Ariz., as a manner of congratulating him on his career. They aired a tribute from Hamilton and Francona on the scoreboard. Naturally, Francona began the message by dubbing Brennaman “overrated.”
“Rarely are we ever serious around each other,” Brennaman says. “He’ll go down as one of my top-five favorite people in the game. He’s self-deprecating, plus he was a terrible player.”
He recounts Francona’s Opening Day experience in 1987. All spring, Francona pestered Buddy Bell about whether he thought he’d break camp with the big-league club. One day, Doug Sisk broke Nick Esasky’s hand with a pitch. Francona immediately looked at Bell and said, “I just made the club.” On Opening Day, Francona spotted his name in the starting lineup and did a double take. He told manager Pete Rose he was thrilled to have made the team, but he never said anything about actually wanting to play.
Brennaman says when he retires, he’ll miss the people around the game.
‘It’s going to be tough,” he said. “Next February, when everybody’s packing up to go to spring training and I’m not going, that’ll be the toughest part.”
Brennaman praises Carlos Santana, saying, “This guy might have the most exciting swing in baseball. He might come out of his shoes. He leaves nothing short.” Santana walks to load the bases, and Hamilton reminds the audience that the bottom of the third is the Liberty Ford Grand Slam giveaway inning.
We have never, I mean never, given away this Liberty Ford Grand Slam giveaway. Ronald McCoy in Akron just became your best friend.
Naquin grounds into an inning-ending double play.
Ronald McCoy just cursed you out.
“Sorry, Ron,” Brennaman says.
Hamilton and Brennaman shake hands.
What you brought to this game is irreplaceable. We thank you.
Rosenhaus returns to his seat and says, “Boy, how do you follow that?”
“Good luck!” Hamilton replies.
Rosenhaus assumes play-by-play duties for the fourth and fifth innings. Hamilton rushes to the restroom and snags a snack. Rosenhaus mentions area scout Junie Melendez, who signed Plesac, is in attendance. Hamilton jokes that Melendez is at the ballpark as much for the free food in press dining as he is to watch his pupil pitch.
In the middle of the fourth, Brennaman returns to the booth so the trio can pose for a photo.
Rosenhaus shares that Mike Garcia Jr. tossed the ceremonial first pitch while donning a jersey his dad once wore. Garcia took a picture with Francona in the dugout before the game. Their fathers played together in Cleveland in 1959, the year Francona was born.
Nothing maddens Hamilton more than the constant notifications from a group text thread. So when Rosenhaus delivers a message after the fifth inning, Hamilton stares at him and shouts: “Stop texting!”
Hamilton takes over the play-by-play for the sixth, and Eugenio Suarez slugs a leadoff homer to left. Tyler Olson replaces Plesac. Then Nick Goody replaces Olson. Reds broadcaster Chris Welsh knocks on the window from the adjacent booth and asks why Francona is making so many pitching changes.
“This is a big game!” Hamilton shouts back.
Hamilton commends the Reds’ pitching staff, which ranks second in WAR and third in ERA despite spending half the season in a bandbox on the banks of the Ohio River. He notes how the Reds hired away pitching coach Derek Johnson from the Brewers over the winter. He locates the NL Central standings on the whiteboard so he can relay Milwaukee’s record.
Welsh barges into the booth before the seventh and yells: “We’re gonna get through this game!” Hamilton asks whether he thinks Bell, a former Indians infielder, will be a successful manager. Welsh says yes.
Hamilton details the Indians’ upcoming road trip through Detroit and Texas. He explains how the Rangers have surprised many with their strong start to the season, and how they, like the Indians, will have some decisions to make at the trade deadline.
He takes a big swig of water.
Swung on and missed. Senzel strikes out. Heeeeeeere comes Tito.
Another pitching change.
As Josh Smith starts Reds rookie Josh VanMeter with three off-target offerings, Hamilton consults the schedule on the back of his media guide. He details the slew of road games in the Indians’ near future, required so Progressive Field can be equipped to host All-Star week.
As Hamilton lists the All-Star festivities, his phone rings. Who would be calling him during an Indians game? And why is his phone not set to silent?
Rosenhaus: “Was it just the game back in ’97?”
Hamilton: “Yeah. And you could afford the ticket. Now if you want to attend, ‘OK, do I want the kids to get a college education, or do we want to go to the game?’ MLB sets the prices. The clubs have nothing to do with that.”
Rosenhaus: “Did you get your invite to the celebrity softball game?”
Hamilton: “I think we’re out of town, aren’t we?”
Rosenhaus: “I knew there was a reason.”
They attempt to name Cleveland celebrities, but only Drew Carey and Halle Berry come to mind.
Finally, Hamilton says: “Haven’t heard the list, outside of Stephanie.”
It’s stretch time at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario, with the score Cincinnati 5, Cleveland 1.
I ask Hamilton who would call him during a game thinking he could actually answer.
“All these damn robocalls,” he says.
“Ten seconds!” Hagele says.
“HEY, WE’RE TALKING!” Hamilton shouts.
“HEY, TEN SECONDS!” Hagele yells back.
Hamilton uses Baseball Savant to track Amir Garrett’s slider usage (16 of his first 20 pitches). When Garrett tosses a 95 mph fastball, Hamilton jokes that he “took something off,” since he had previously been clocking in at 96 mph.
Rosenhaus ponders how writers create compelling content when such a game lacks drama and intrigue. When Hamilton joined the Indians’ broadcast crew in 1990, Herb Score crushed his cheery stance on the team (which would proceed to lose 190 games over his first two years in the booth). Score told Hamilton that the team’s outlook — no matter how dreary — can’t influence his effort level on the broadcast.
“There are too many people depending on you to hear that game,” Score told him, “and it might be the highlight of their day, listening to an Indians game, and you owe them your very best. It doesn’t matter what their record is.”
As Derek Dietrich opens the eighth with a double down the left-field line, Hamilton highlights his Cleveland roots. Dietrich grew up in Parma, and his parents still reside in the area.
Hamilton loads up on background information during his tour of the clubhouse each day. During spring training, Rosenhaus makes the rounds to gather insight to fill otherwise quiet moments. He’ll chat with prospects and players who aren’t necessarily bound for the big-league roster just so he has material to fall back upon should they eventually reach the majors. He also interviews players and front-office personnel for segments for the pregame show that airs a half-hour before first pitch.
When Iglesias delivers a two-run double to increase the Reds’ advantage to 7-1, Hamilton recaps the Indians’ recent play.
Well, it’s a dud of a game for the Indians, but it’s been a really good homestand up until today.
He notices the stampede of fans heading for the exits.
Well, at least they got sunburned.
At last, a gift from Mother Nature.
Good news is, you can save on your water bill. Anyone who’s watering their lawn, you may want to check that.
With A.J. Cole fighting his way through a shaky eighth inning, Hamilton looks at his partner.
Maybe we can get Marty back and he can finish this game and you and I can go home. Forty-six years as the voice of the Reds and you won’t meet a guy who’s been a bigger help to broadcasters everywhere than Marty Brennaman.
Rosenhaus says the first time he met Brennaman, the veteran broadcaster made Rosenhaus feel as though he had been in the business for 20 years.
In the bottom of the eighth, Rosenhaus congratulates Tim Mead, the longtime media relations director for the Los Angeles Angels who recently accepted the role of president of the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y.
They should’ve given him a snowblower as a going-away present.
And then, the long-awaited, iconic call. Santana launched a 98 mph fastball to center and Hamilton’s voice reached a crescendo, even in a lopsided affair.
THIS BALLLL GONE. WOW. THAT BALL WENT BEYOND THE FIRST LEVEL OF EVERGREENS AND MAY HAVE KNOCKED DOWN ONE OF THE TREES BEHIND IT. SANTANA WITH A MAMMOTH BLAST TO CENTER, HIS 14TH.
“There will be times when I’ll be in the car,” Francona said, “like in the winter, and, like, the MLB Network will have a call of his — his calls are fucking great. They’re really good.”
Hamilton and Shane Bieber signed autographs for an hour at an All-Star voting promotion in downtown Cleveland earlier this month. One fan asked Hamilton to write his home run call next to his name.
“Fans appreciate his calls,” Otero said. “They resonate with them. He’s the voice of Cleveland.”
An Indians staffer announces the home run as being measured at 426 feet, which Hamilton thinks sounds a bit short. He then provides a pretend play-by-play of Rosenhaus using a tape measure to determine the true distance.
Rosey, scaling the 9-foot wall in center …
The two banter about playing pranks with a tape measure, releasing one end so it recoils and smacks the person holding the other end.
Oh, a bag of peas will take care of it.
With two outs in the bottom of the ninth, Bell strolls to the mound to make a pitching change. Hamilton stares at Welsh. Jared Hughes sprints in from the bullpen, and Hamilton says he’s running as if there’s only one piece of chicken remaining on the postgame spread.
I don’t know if we’ve ever seen anybody run in from the bullpen faster than Jared Hughes did.
Vinnie Pestano might have an argument there.
With a pair of runners aboard, Jordan Luplow grounds to short.
Throw to first, on the mark and the ballgame’s over. Nice play by Iglesias on the charge from short. Your final today: Cincinnati 7 and Cleveland 2.
As the broadcast airs a few commercials, Hamilton finalizes his scoresheet. He offers a quick wrap-up as he packs up his belongings and a few short segments for the postgame show. He reminds listeners of the schedule for the next broadcast, two days later from Comerica Park in Detroit, the first tilt in a seven-game trip.
“Thirty years on the mic, that’s a long time,” Otero said. “A lot of people here in Cleveland know that voice. I’m glad he’s with us.”
This is Tom Hamilton. Enjoy the rest of your Wednesday. The final again today: Cincinnati 7 and Cleveland 2. So long, everybody.
"I've suffered a great many tragedies in my life....most of them never happened". Mark Twain