Van Miller

Growing up in Buffalo meant that you were hearing Van Miller's voice as much as you were hearing the voice of your favorite teacher. Van was everywhere.

A true celebrity in a small-type city, I suppose.

I first remember knowing of Van Miller when he would call the Buffalo Braves games. In fact, I stood within just a couple of feet from him as he walked around in his fur coat and hat on the sidelines, before a game, talking with Dr. Jack Ramsey who was the coach at the time.

Two for McAdoo, when great Bob McAdoo scored.

and just plain:

Randy when Randy Smith hit a jumper.

At 8 or 9 years old you start thinking that announcing a game and doing the play-by-play might be your way into the pros.

(Lord knows my left-hand and playing D wasn't going to do it for a slow, no-jumping, white lad).

But we used to try and announce the games. I recall working with my old buddy, Al DeCarlo, thinking it would be great to be real professional sports announcers.

But Van made it sound easy.

He could always make the person listening or watching feel the excitement.

When he moved onto the games for the Buffalo Bills, Van became a true Buffalo legend. When the Bills got to be good...real good...Van ramped up the excitement with his legendary calls.

The Fandemonium call is one that I'm sure that anyone who lives in Buffalo can call to mind...

...but back to my dream.

I worked on the radio station at Gannon University for awhile.

I quickly learned that I couldn't work up sounding excited when I actually wasn't.

I was a monotone reader of things on the radio and it all came crashing down as I prepared my sports for my afternoon radio show. The guy who was spinning records nonchalantly asked me what I thought of the death of Philadelphia Flyers goalie Pelle Lindbergh.

"It f*&%ing sucks," I said.

"WE'RE ON THE AIR!" He screamed.

I wonder if Van ever had a moment like that.

Anywhoha...

Van Miller's passing this weekend was shocking to me in one respect. Van lived to the ripe old age of 87.

A great life, by all accounts.

Yet when I heard he died I thought of being a 9-year-old kid.

Sitting with Dad.

Watching Ernie D.

Van's voice in my head.

Dad cheering with me.

That's how time works, people.

We remember.

We treasure.

Van will stay alive.

In the heads and hearts of all who listened along.

I finally figured out how Van grew excited by what he was seeing too.

He loved Buffalo sports and the community of people he was talking for.

RIP Van Miller.

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