Mighty Casey

There was good news and bad news for the Minnesota Twins this week. The good news - Jacque "3rd out" Jones is trade bait. The bad news - Bob Casey, Twins' PA announcer for over 3,000 games, died. I grew to appreciate Bob during my year as a Twins season ticket holder, but felt I couldn't adequately eulogize the man. Instead, I asked friend and season ticket partner Jeff to sum up the glory that was Bob Casey:

Bob Casey was the biggest part of the Metrodome experience, the perfect ringleader of baseball's indoor circus. Most kids come away from their first major league ball game with a sundae helmet and inspiration from having seen their heroes up close. I distinctly remember thinking, "what was up with that guy's voice?" (they were out of sundae helmets).

Since I learned of his death the other day, I've been trying to characterize what made his voice unique, and the best thing I can come up with is that he sounded like a pretentious carnie. But Bob Casey was baseball, or at least baseball as I knew it under the Big Top. Was he senile? Yes. Was he drunk most of the time? Probably. Did he have a voice that made you wonder why people paid him to use it? Absolutely. But these things are in the job description (see: Harry Caray). We used to laugh at him when he would literally pass out mid-game, and stop announcing players, or better yet when he would catch himself and blurt a punchy, "now...Guzmn..."

[EDITOR'S NOTE: As I remember, there was one game that Jeff attended without me - the Twins were playing the Indians. The Twins crushed them, but, if memory serves, Thome got in a few bombs of his own, even hitting one ball off the curtain in the right-center upper deck. Anyway, the hits were coming at such a furious pace, poor Bob Casey struggled to keep things together at the mic. That's when he went into panic mood, "Uhh--Guzman." I wish I would have been there that night.]

I always loved when the Jays were in town because four times a game we got to hear Bob try and say "Frank Catalanotto." He would butcher it but still deliver the goods, "Cannananadanaaaaa..." Some days, Bob's only sign of life would be his announcement that there was NO SMOKING in the Metrodome, and he would turn it into a stupid joke, like, "If you must smoke, (insert punchline: quit, move to Wisconsin, etc.)" He was kind of a running joke and a gimmick, but I still get chills when I think back to the late 80's/early 90's when the Metrodome was full..."and now batting [the "a" in batting sounds like a soft "o"], the center fielder, KIRBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY PUCKETT!!!"...cut to crowd going apeshit, myself included. Thank you, Bob.

-jeff.

Well, now we know that Kirby was a horrible person that may have deserved his affliction. It's safe to say that history will be more kind to Mr. Casey. Thanks for the memories, Bob. I wish the upper deck acoustics would have allowed me to comprehend more of your ramblings.