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Bobby Murcer with his wife Kay (Photo: amNewYork.com)
I went to a gathering at a neighbor’s house yesterday afternoon and missed the end of the Yankee game. When I got home I went online to see how the game finished up, and saw the news that Bobby Murcer had died. My sincere prayers and condolences go out to his family and friends.
Bobby was my boyhood idol when he was a player and my touchstone to Yankee tradition and class when he was a broadcaster. I had the privilege to meet him once, when he brought some of his childhood friends from Oklahoma to visit NYSE, as recounted in this post. I had the honor of meeting them at the door, and I remember being completely awestruck when I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Murcer,” was all I could stammer out. “Please, just call me Bobby,” he said with a big smile, instantly putting me at ease. I think his real greatness was in exactly that regular-guy connection he had with people.
Not that he hadn’t done great things in his career. For years and years he was an excellent player, the best guy on Yankee teams that otherwise were anything but excellent. He was exciting to watch — fast as a colt, good power, sure center fielder. He was an All-Star in both leagues, once hit .331, hit 252 lifetime homers, and once hit four consecutive homers over the course of a double-header I remember listening to on a little transistor radio.
And of course, there was 6 Aug. 1979, the day of the funeral of his friend and Yankee captain Thurman Munson, who had died when his small plane crashed. The entire team attended the service, where Lou Piniella and Bobby gave eulogies, then flew back to New York to play Baltimore that night. Bobby hit a three-run homer and a walkoff, two-run single in the ninth inning to knock in all five runs in a 5-4 comeback win. What accounts for the ability to do such things in such situations, I wonder — adrenaline? Luck? God? All I know is that it was something special, and it always shone around Bobby Murcer.
The day he was at NYSE, Gordon Charlop, one of our brokers, walked Bobby and his friends around the trading floor. People stopped what they were doing to come over and talk with him. They got his autograph, they asked him how the Scooter was doing, what did he think of the Yanks’ chances for the playoffs, did he remember the time when this or that happened. More frequently than anything else, I heard people thank him, for being a player and announcer they enjoyed, for always conducting himself well. Bobby was a modest man and could tell he appreciated the outpouring of affection.
The following Christmas Eve we read the news that Bobby had brain cancer. Ever since, we have followed his battle with the disease. His comeback to the Stadium after his surgery. His stated goal of being at Opening Day at the new Stadium next year (I’m sure he indeed will be there). And most notably, the news reports of his trading letters and phone calls with others battling cancer, sharing his experiences, affirming theirs, gently urging them to have faith and hope. That he should think of others at such a difficult time for him seemed completely in character.
I looked up to Bobby when I was a kid, and even more so as an adult. It is a rare person who lives up to what you imagine them to be, and more. For that, I thank you, Bobby Murcer.


