Nov

17

Not Just Another Sports Hero

November 17, 2007 |

Joe NuxhallYesterday morning, I pulled out of my driveway and turned up the radio.  Within seconds, I knew that Joe Nuxhall had died.  The guys on the radio hadn’t said it yet, but I knew by the way they were talking that Joe was gone.

Joe was a Cincinnati Reds radio announcer for pretty much my entire life.  He paired with Marty Brennaman (who is in the Hall-of-Fame) for 31 years before finally going to part-time announcing after the 2004 season.  This past season he only did a handful of games.

Joe was absolutely, totally, completely beloved throughout the Greater Cincinnati area.  He and Marty were the voice of the Reds - and intertwined so completely with the magical moments of this storied franchise that we cannot visualize or remember those moments without their voices being a part of the memory. 

He was a native Cincinnatian who played for the Reds for all but one year of his career.  He joined the broadcast booth shortly after retiring.

Off the air, Joe was best known for his generosity.  He never said “no”.  He gave of his time, talent and money to so many worthy causes that no one can possibly keep track.  He never had a bad word to say about anyone - unless it was a player not hustling on the ballfield.  And most importantly, no one ever had a bad word to say about him.  His contributions away from the stadium were legendary and will have an impact for generations to come.

He was quick with a story, made everyone feel at ease - heck, he made everyone feel like they had known him their entire lives, even if they were meeting him for the first time.  He was humble and was never ashamed of his on-air rooting for his team.

Cincinnatians really feel like they have lost a friend, an uncle, a grandpa.  For my generation, he was the voice that accompanied us through summer after summer.   Marty and Joe were so good together behind the mike that they became a part of our extended summer family. 

Stories are going around discussion boards and other websites of memories of people listening to Marty & Joe.  And the memories are all too familiar.

Stories have been told of little kids smuggling a radio into bed late at night to listen to the Reds when they were on the West Coast.  Yea, I did that.  Stories have been told of nights sitting on back porches and decks, drinking beers, looking up at the stars, enjoying the night - and listening to Marty & Joe.  Yep, did that too.  Stories of radios at the stadium, turning down the TV sound and listening to Marty & Joe instead of the TV announcers.  Ditto. 

And one of the most constant memories is this - from April through September, whenever we all got in the car, we turned the ignition and immediately flipped the radio to 700 WLW, settled onto the road and just enjoyed listening to Marty & Joe.  We’d get home, or wherever our destination, and just sit there in the car, listening until the inning was over.

But for me, the most poignant memories are of the five years I spent living in Washington, D.C.  On a clear night, I sometimes could pick up WLW from my car.  So, many of nights, I would go to my car, settle in, and listen to a little piece of home.

Or maybe the best memory is of me driving down I-75 coming back from a long day’s work away from home - Game 2 of the 1990 World Series - unable to watch on TV, just listening to Marty & Joe.  Extra innings, game tied, Billy Bates on second, Joe Oliver at the plate, Eckersley on the mound for the A’s - Oliver chops one just down the third base line, Bates comes around to score the winning run - Reds leave Cincinnati up 2 games to none and proceed to Oakland where they sweep the mighty A’s.

I heard the call and started yelling so hard - hooting and hollering, arms flailing, horn honking - I had to pull over to the side of the road.  And I just sat there wildly celebrating with only the cows to hear.  It was Joe on the mike making the call - and an indelible memory was made - a connection between that moment and his voice that can never be separated.

As I was driving into work yesterday, they played that clip on the radio.  And the memories came flooding back - visualizing where I was, what I was doing, how I felt.  And I started sobbing, really sobbing - for a great man, gone; for a constant in my life, gone; for a part of my childhood, gone; for a voice that was so much a part of my life, silenced.

Marty still does play-by-play.  His son, Thom, and former Reds reliever, Jeff Brantley have joined him in the booth.  Together, I bet they make up the best announcing team in all of baseball.  But, it can’t be the same - the three of them would be the first to admit such.  I know they will build their own legacy - at least until Marty finally decides to retire.  And their voices are already leaving memories of their own. 

But, Joe was Joe - he was Cincinnati.  He embodied our best character so perfectly that so many in this community feel like they have lost a part of themselves.

His was a life well-lived.  His legacy and true impact is what we all should aspire to achieve.  His generosity, greatness of spirit, humility, passion, drive - he was the man we all should want to be.

Joe was a true man of excellence.  And we in Cincinnati were very blessed to have him as part of our lives.

He always signed off the Reds broadcast with, “Here’s the ole’ left-hander rounding third and headed for home.  Good night.” 

Good night, Joe, and thank you for the memories!

Photo: Cincinnati Enquirer, July 18, 2003 (Craig Ruttle, Photographer)


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