Longtime Yanks announcer Sheppard dies - By Marty Noble / MLB.com

Longtime Yanks announcer Sheppard dies

Man known affectionately as 'Voice of God' was 99 years old

By Marty Noble / MLB.com

The gentle, refined and pious man whose voice afforded the Yankees' former home a dignified distinction for nearly five decades has passed away. Bob Sheppard, who introduced Joe DiMaggio, George W. Bush, Mickey Mantle, Elmer Fudd, and Derek Jee-tah and narrated the touchstone NFL playoff, died at his home in Baldwin, N.Y., on Sunday at age 99, nearly three years after his final call in the Bronx.

A rich, mellow voice and precise elocution made Sheppard a primary component of the Yankee Stadium experience. For generations, his "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen..." was the greeting that mattered most. Scooter, Yogi, Mickey, Whitey, Thurman, Reggie, Goose, Donnie, Bernie and Jee-tah were occupied, preparing for the day's event. They didn't nod or wave. It was left to Sheppard to greet the masses. "...and welcome to Yankee Stadium."

His words, deliberately delivered and echoing, served as a baseball "On your mark." Once Sheppard had spoken, the game could begin. He did for elocution what Loretta Young did for elegance, Benny Goodman did for swing, what Rogers and Astaire did for dance and what Mantle did for switch-hitting. Sheppard was from then, and he extended "then" so that it could be appreciated into the 21st century.

For that and other reasons, New York Times columnist George Vescey once identified him as a "civic treasure." That Sheppard worked Giants football games -- "Tackled by Robustelli and Katkavage" still resonates -- and St. John's basketball games and later did introductions for the Yankees' YES Network enhanced his metropolitan-area profile.

What Yankee Stadium visitor didn't mimic his unique delivery? The backyard and schoolyard fantasy games of young boys in Yankees' vast kingdom routinely featured introductions with the cadence and tenor of Robert Leo Sheppard, the man who made every syllable count and made a visit to his workplace different from an outing to any other sports venue in the land.

He made us listen and taught us to appreciate subtle sounds in a setting that often offered only jock-jam cacophony. Now, he is silent, and we are at loss for words -- his words.

It was no specific illness, but natural causes that took Sheppard from us. He had been ill and, as a result, too frail and weak to work in 2008. He regained weight and strength, but not enough to visit the successor to The House That Ruth Built. The new Stadium is graced, though, by a press dining area that bears his name and by his voice each time Jeter bats.

At the request of the Yankees' captain, a recording of Sheppard's "Derek Jeet-tah" is used.

Sheppard referred to Jeter's request as "one of the greatest compliments I have received in my career of announcing," and wryly added, "The fact that he wanted my voice every time he came to bat is a credit to his good judgment and my humility."

Sheppard's first game as the Yankee Stadium public address announcer came April 17, 1951. The first player he introduced was DiMaggio -- Dom, the Red Sox center fielder. His debut coincided with Mantle's big-league debut. (Coincidentally, the two also shared a birthday, Oct. 20.)

"Mickey arrived with slightly more fanfare," Sheppard liked to say.

Almost all of them did, from Mize to Mo, Raschi to Rodriguez and Stengel to Steinbrenner. But before his time came, Sheppard, too, had gained celebrity, unlike others who had similar responsibilities in other ballparks. He became, for the Yankees, what Ed McMahon became for Johnny Carson.

"I'd bat ninth just to hear him say my name," Reggie Jackson once said. "When he says "Forty-four," it's a higher number."

After hearing his name Sheppard-dized, Roy Smalley stated, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Red Sox second base Jerry Remy decided no player was a bona fide big leaguer if he hadn't been introduced by Sheppard, and Rusty Staub identified Sheppard's voice as "the tones of dignity." More recently, Moises Alou lamented never having played in the Bronx. "I want to hear him say my name," Alou said in 2008, hoping Sheppard would work a Mets-Yankees Interleague game. Sheppard had been advised the proper pronunciation was "Ah-LOW," and was prepared to alter the public's pronunciation, as he had done with Tony PEH-rez in the 1976 World Series.

For that matter, it was Sheppard who taught the world the proper pronunciation of the Di-MAH-gio. To him, the short A was comparable to fingernails on a blackboard.

Sheppard was a tall, slender man who, like DiMaggio, preferred a blue suit and white shirt. He was distinguished before his hair turned white. In his later years, he favored solid-color LaCoste sweaters and ivy caps. His dress was as meticulous as his speech.

He was a striking figure on the dance floor. He and his second wife, Mary, occasionally attended the "Indoor Outing," a dinner and dancing event staged annually in the fall by the New York Chapter of the Baseball Writers' Association of America at one of the city's ballparks. When they danced, others did not; they watched, instead. The Sheppards moved like Champions.

The BBWAA honored Sheppard for his long and meritorious service to the game at its annual winter dinner in 1998. When he reached the lectern, he stood, arms extended, palms facing up. He had the appearance of a religious figure. The reception afforded him was long and heartfelt.

Players suggested Sheppard's announcements sounded like sermons, particularly those in which unruly fans were gently admonished. Jackson took it a step further. After Sheppard had ventured to Fenway Park and surprised all by replacing Sherm Feller and introducing Jackson, the Yankees Hall of Famer said he had been introduced by "The voice of God."

Sheppard wasn't altogether comfortable with such well-intended comparisons. He was a devout Roman Catholic who celebrated mass daily when his health allowed.

Some did consider him a kind of deity. Oscar Gamble once pointed out that National League players didn't know what they were missing.

"We got the DH over here," Gamble said. "And that man upstairs." His reference was not to George Steinbrenner or a supreme being, but to Sheppard.

Perhaps no name benefited more from Sheppard's delivery than AH-scar Gamble, unless it was Ah-to VELL-ez or Looo-EESe Ar-r-r-royo. Even Mickey Klutz sounded better. Sheppard enjoyed introducing Mantle, Rocky Colavito, Dave Righetti and most Hispanic names.

Mantle once said, "Each time Bob Sheppard introduced me at Yankee Stadium, I got shivers up my spine." And Sheppard said to him, 'So did I.'"

Salome BAR-oh-has and Shigetoshi Hasegawa were his particular favorites. Sadly, William Van Landingham never pitched in the old Stadium.

Asked for a list of his favorite names, Sheppard did more than accommodate. He wrote this verse:

     There are certain names that go over well,
     Like Pena, Ramos, Carrasquel,
     With liquid sounds so panoramic.
     And strangely, they all are Hispanic.
     Aurelio, Hipolito, Cecilio, Domingo
     Have a lovelier sound than American lingo.
     What native name could I ever tell so
     Musically, as Valdivielso?
     And no native name could ever show us
     The splendor of Salome Barojas.

"He adds elegance to the game," Tim McCarver said. "The best words to describe his introductions are 'eloquent' and 'elegant.'"

Sheppard was born Oct. 20, 1910 -- 21 years to the day before Mantle -- in Ridgewood in Queens, N.Y. He graduated from Saint John's Preparatory School in Brooklyn in 1928 and from St. John's College in 1932. He was president of his senior class and earned seven varsity letters at St. John's, four as a left-handed quarterback and a first baseman. Upon graduation, he played semi-pro football on Long Island on weekends.

He earned his Master's Degree in speech from Columbia University and later served two years in the United States Navy during World War II, commanding shipboard gunnery crews in the Pacific Fleet.

His announcing career began in the late '40s when he volunteered to work a charity football game in Freeport, N.Y. That job led to positions with the Brooklyn Dodgers of the All-American Conference, the New York football Yankees, baseball's Yankees and the NFL Giants. His work with the Yankees might have begun a year earlier, in 1950, but his job as the chairman of the speech department at John Adams High School in Queens conflicted with the Yankees' schedule of mostly afternoon games. His "other job" responsibilities were accommodated the following year.

It was as the Giants' PA announcer that Sheppard worked the NFL championship game between the Giants and Colts in December, 1958, widely considered the game most responsible for the explosion in popularity of the NFL.

Traffic before and after Giants home games played in the Meadowlands persuaded Sheppard to end his football duties after the Giants' final game of the 2005-2006 season. His final baseball game came Sept. 5, 2007 -- Ben Broussard of the Mariners was the last player he introduced -- though his official retirement didn't come until Nov. 27, 2009. Sheppard's passion for football belied his gentle nature, but it was evident. He was once an on-air guest of Phil Rizzuto during a rain delay at Yankee Stadium in the early '70s. Rizzuto, wearing his pinstripes on his sleeve, as always, said, "Well, Bob, you've been present for so many great moments here at Yankee Stadium. Which one has the been the biggest for you?" Rizzuto was stunned when Sheppard cited the Colts-Giants game.

Sheppard also worked games for New York Titans of the AFL at the Polo Grounds, the New York Stars of the WFL at Randall's Island and five Army-Navy football games, all of which is not to suggest he wasn't a baseball fan. He treasured his relationships with the Yankees greats and the lesser-knowns who passed through the Bronx, and generally enjoyed the company of baseball people.

Sheppard is survived by his wife, Mary, two sons, two daughters, four grandchildren and nine great grandchilden.

Sheppard's work was recognized by the Baseball Hall of Fame, which displays his encased microphone, and by St. John's University, where he also taught and which annually awards the Sheppard Trophy to an outstanding student-athlete. His celebrity also reached the cinema -- he appeared in four movies -- and television. His voice was heard in three episodes of "Seinfeld."

Though he made his mark via his introductions of batting orders and lineup revisions, Sheppard's poetry -- eloquent tributes to players and preambles to ceremonies at the Stadium -- made him more special and admired. Among scores of poems, he wrote were ones about DiMaggio, Mantle, Roger Maris, Thurman Munson, the now-razed Yankee Stadium and a tribute to Hispanic names.

He wrote the eulogies he delivered, declining on at least one occasion to use something Steinbrenner had provided. Sheppard suggested he might leave the Stadium if ordered to use The Boss' words. Steinbrenner later praised his eulogy for Dick Howser.

Sheppard was a man of conviction who had a strong sense of what was proper. In the mid-'90s, he had been in early discussions about writing a book about his Yankees' experiences. But when the publisher suggested that anecdotes which Sheppard considered unusable would be essential, Sheppard flatly declined to work on a book and didn't revisit the possibility.

When the New York baseball writers considered roasting him a few years earlier, he had expresssed reservations. No one was quite sure how to roast such a revered figure. But when Sheppard asked, "Would my daughter feel comfortable if she attended? ... She's a nun," he was told the roast might get a tad improper. He politely but firmly declined.

So few people in the game are like Sheppard. Paul Olden has replaced him in the booth, but not in the Yankees' pantheon. More than any club in the game, the Yankees know how difficult it is to replace a legend. But they do salute their heroes: Sheppard has a plaque in Monument Park with Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, et al. And as further tribute, there are the words Jackson spoke in 1985 after the death of long-time clubhouse manager Pete Sheehy. They're quite apropos for Sheppard as well:

"There have been a handful a great Yankees. He belongs. They shouldn't wear black arm bands. They should remove one pinstripe."

Poignant and well said, but had Sheppard said it, it would have sounded better.

Marty Noble is a reporter for MLB.com. This story was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs.

Posted: Monday July 12, 2010 1:07PM ; Updated: Monday July 12, 2010 1:07PM

Tom Verducci>INSIDE BASEBALL

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Fulfilling the request of the man who gave voice to Yankee Stadium

Story Highlights Bob Sheppard was the public address announcer at Yankee Stadium for 56 years Sheppard died on Sunday at age 99 and hasn't done PA since 2007 Sheppard asked Tom Verducci to write SI's story about his passing

Bob Sheppard gave voice to a building. He transformed all that concrete and steel of Yankee Stadium into a trusted old friend because, well, that voice was reliable, it was unhurried and it was always there. Players came and went, seasons dawned and set, but the one constant for 56 years, as fathers brought their sons in the same way their fathers brought them, was that because of Bob Sheppard Yankee Stadium sounded eloquent, refined and, truth be told, even godly.
There was a game back in the 1980s at the stadium when the bullpen gate was left ajar after a pitching change had been made. The umpires were vainly trying to secure the attention of anybody in the bullpen to close the gate, which was actually part of the outfield wall in left-center field, so the game could resume. Sheppard caught on to what was happening.
Suddenly, in a rare in-game moment when he spoke into the public address microphone for anything other than a player introduction, Sheppard announced in that proper cadence of his, "Will someone . . . in the bullpen area . . . please close . . . the bullpen gate . . .Thank you."
It was closed immediately, lest the risk of a lightning bolt or two. Only Sheppard could turn such a prosaic moment into something approaching divine providence. I was in the press box that night and was struck by the commanding nature of his voice. The stadium actually came to a hush. His voice did, in that Charlton Heston, The Ten Commandments kind of cinematic way, really sound like the voice of God coming down from on high.
For thousands of American League ballplayers over half a century, there were two rites of passage that confirmed your arrival as a true big leaguer: your own bubble gum trading card, and hearing your name announced by Bob Sheppard across that big canyon of a ballpark in the Bronx.
What made the voice so powerful was the man behind it. For not only did Sheppard give voice to a building, he also gave voice to humility and kindness. He was himself a devoutly religious man who dedicated his life to education (teaching speech at St. John's, where he had played football and baseball) and to his wife Mary, who was at his side when he passed away Sunday at his Long Island, N.Y., home, just three months from his 100th birthday. He was a man wholly without affectations or arrogance, and because he was so genuine his voice had such depth to it.
I was fortunate enough to get to know Bob a bit back in the 1980s, when I started covering the Yankees. On Sunday mornings when the Yankees were home, a local priest would celebrate mass in a small auxiliary clubhouse underneath the stands of Yankee Stadium, between the home and visiting clubhouses. The parishoners, typically about 30 to 40 of us, included ushers, vendors, reporters and coaches and players from the Yankees and their opponents, usually dressed in game pants, workout shirt and shower shoes.
The lector for these masses was Bob Sheppard. If you understand the gravitas of Sheppard's voice when he intoned, "Shortstop. Num-bah two. Derek. Jee-tuh. Num-bah two," just imagine, at a lectern beside an altar, the way he could intone "Deuteronomy." The Old Testament readings never sounded, quite literally, so much like heaven on earth.
Back then Sheppard was a regular visitor before games to the dugout and, whenever a new player arrived, to both the home and visiting clubhouses; Sheppard would personally ask them how they would like their name pronounced. I marveled not only at his attention to detail -- Sheppard considered himself a reporter, not a showman -- but also his countenance, which was regal without the stuffiness.
During games, Sheppard, an avid reader, would read books in between innings in his small, glass-enclosed booth in the press box, looking every bit professorial with his well-pressed slacks, plaid dress shirt, sweater vest and -- here's the important part -- comfortable shoes. After announcing the batter who represented the final out of a game, Sheppard would leave his booth and stand by the hallway leading out of the back of the press box, clutching his hardcover to his chest, his motor idling. If the batter extended the game, Sheppard would step back into his booth long enough to announce the next batter, and then resume his getaway position.
Immediately upon the securing of the final out, Sheppard dashed down the hallway -- he was still quick afoot well into his 80s -- and out a swinging door, then turned right into a stadium concourse, then into the doors of the Yankees executive offices, and then he hopped into an awaiting elevator, bringing him that much closer and that much faster to being home with Mary.
From the moment I met Bob I knew I was in the company of a legend, but I was fortunate enough to know him (though not all that well) as someone far more impressive than that: a blessed, kind-hearted soul. The voice made him famous. But all these years it was what was in his heart, not in his elocution, that was most godly. I profoundly admired, in such advancing years, that with such joy and contentment, and still a bounce in his step, he cherished a job and a woman he loved.
And so I was blindsided last fall, in what would be one of his last interviews, when Bob Sheppard spoke about me. It was October 29, the day of Game 2 of the World Series. Sheppard, who last worked at Yankee Stadium in 2007, was frail and dying. Melissa Segura, the very talented SI writer, visited Sheppard at his home to interview him for what would a first-person piece for a Yankees SI commemorative issue. Sheppard reminisced about his life and his career.
That night at the stadium, Melissa told me what Bob had said at the end of the interview. Taken from her transcript, this is what he told her:
"I have one request: if I had a choice of anyone of your team of gifted writers, I would like Tom Verducci to do the Bob Sheppard story. You tell him that I made a request, which won't be granted, I know. I think he's one of the finer writers in sports. Tell him that, too."
I was blown away. It meant so much to me, especially knowing the care and respect Bob had for language, but mostly because I so admired him for his kindness and authenticity. I remembered his words yesterday upon his passing, and they hit me even harder. I cried, and not because he was gone, but because of his benevolence.
So here you are, Bob. This is for you. Your request fulfilled.

Find this article at: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2010/writers/tom_verducci/07/12/bob.sheppard/index.html

Statement From George M. Steinbrenner On Passing Of Bob Sheppard

“I am deeply saddened by the death today of Bob Sheppard, a good friend and fine man whose voice set the gold standard for America’s sports announcers. For over a half century, fans were thrilled to hear his unforgettable voice and players were thrilled to hear his majestic enunciation of their names. Bob Sheppard was a great member of the Yankees family and his death leaves a lasting silence. My thoughts and prayers are with his wife, Mary, and their family.”

Great Quotes About Bob Sheppard

DEREK JETER, Yankees shortstop
"Players changed year in and year out, he was the one constant," said Jeter, who will continue to have a recording of Sheppard's voice announce his at-bats.
"Every time you heard it, you got chills," Jeter said of having Sheppard recite his name. "I remember him asking how to pronounce it to make sure he was pronouncing it right."
ANDY PETTITTE, Yankees pitcher
Pettitte said his most lasting memory is of hearing Sheppard announce Derek Jeter's name, and then having other players impersonate it. "When you think of all the great players he has announced, when you think of the old stadium, there is no doubt you think about him and what he had done there for the organization," Pettitte said. "It was cool to hear him announce your name, that's for sure."
MARIANO RIVERA, Yankees closer
"His voice, it is irreplaceable."
GEORGE STEINBRENNER, Yankees owner
"I am deeply saddened by the death today of Bob Sheppard, a good friend and fine man whose voice set the gold standard for America's sports announcers. For over a half century, fans were thrilled to hear his unforgettable voice and players were thrilled to hear his majestic enunciation of their names. Bob Sheppard was a great member of the Yankees family and his death leaves a lasting silence. My thoughts and prayers are with his wife, Mary, and their family."
JOE GIRARDI, Yankees manager
"It is extremely sad," Girardi said. "When I think of Bob Sheppard, you think of all the tradition with the Yankees. You think about Ruth and Gehrig and Yogi and Joe D and Mantle and I think you mention Bob Sheppard. That's how important he was to this franchise."
"You realized you hit the big lights when Bob Sheppard announces your name."
JOHN MARA, New York Giants co-owner
"Bob Sheppard was the most distinguished and dignified voice in all of professional sports. We are very proud of the fact that he was the voice of the Giants for so many years. Bob was a true gentleman and the consummate professional. There will never be another one like him."
GENE MONAHAN, Yankees trainer
Monahan said that it was extra special to hear his name called by Sheppard during introductions before Opening Day and big games. "It was, 'Oh, my God, Bob Sheppard just said my name,'" Monahan said. "It sort of gets you and stings you."
JOE TORRE, Los Angeles Dodgers manager, former Yankees manager
"He was a classic. I was talking to Billy Crystal this morning and he used Bob in his movie '61*'. The energy he had for the age he was was pretty amazing."
BOBBY COX, Atlanta Braves manager, former Yankees player and coach
"He had the most distinctive voice I've ever heard and he announced my name in my first game," said Cox, who played 220 games with the Yankees in 1968 and 1969 and then managed against them in two World Series. "It was special when he made the lineup announcement."
"It was so different, that's all I can remember," Cox said of Sheppard's voice. "I just couldn't wait for him to do it."

Obituary: Bob Sheppard / Yankee Stadium PA announcer

Obituary: Bob Sheppard / Yankee Stadium PA announcer

Oct. 20, 1910 - July 11, 2010

Monday, July 12, 2010

By Mason Levinson, Bloomberg News

Bob Sheppard, the Yankee Stadium public-address announcer known for his resonant introductions of baseball players from Joe DiMaggio to Derek Jeter that echoed within the Bronx ballpark and carried well beyond to the elevated subway platforms, has died. He was 99.
Mr. Sheppard died Sunday at his home in Baldwin, N.Y., on Long Island, the New York Yankees said in an e-mailed statement.
Mr. Sheppard's perfect diction and unhurried intonations made their debut at the Yankees' baseball season opener of April 17, 1951 -- and were heard at every opening-day game until April 11, 2006, when he dislocated his artificial hip.
A bronchial infection led to a lengthy hospital stay at the end of the 2007 regular season, and the Yankees said he never returned to announce another game. By then, Mr. Sheppard's voice had reverberated in New York City's most-famous stadium for more than half a century and in more than 4,400 games.
"Your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Sheppard would demand, whether asking fans to rise for the national anthem or to note: "Now batting for the Yankees, the shortstop, No. 2, Derek Jeter, No. 2."
A recording of Mr. Sheppard's introduction of Mr. Jeter now plays at the player's request and has since Mr. Sheppard's lengthy absence in 2007, the Yankees said.
Fans and players alike paid heed to Mr. Sheppard's deep voice. "When you think of Yankee Stadium, he's the first thing that comes to mind," Mr. Jeter, the Yankee captain and shortstop, said in April 2006. "It's not right playing here unless he's the one that's announcing."
The team enshrined him with a plaque in Monument Park on May 7, 2000.
Mr. Sheppard was "a fine man whose voice set the gold standard for America's sports announcers," said George Steinbrenner, principal owner of the Yankees, in a statement. "His death leaves a lasting silence."
Mr. Sheppard was a New York City high school speech teacher when he was hired as a public-address announcer for pro football games at Yankee Stadium in the late 1940s. He shifted to Yankee baseball after being assured it wouldn't interfere with his teaching career.
Robert Leo Sheppard, who grew up in the New York City borough of Queens, consistently refused to disclose his age; New York voter records listed his date of birth as Oct. 20, 1910.
In addition to the Yankees, Mr. Sheppard was the public-address announcer for the New York Giants football team at Yankee Stadium from 1956 until 1976, when the team moved to Giants Stadium across the Hudson River in New Jersey's Meadowlands, and continued to announce at Giants games until he retired from that job after the 2005 season.
He played varsity football and baseball for St. John's University, where he earned a bachelor's degree in speech in 1932. He also received a master's degree in speech from Columbia University.
Mr. Sheppard was the chairman of the speech department of John Adams High School in Queens before becoming a professor of speech at St John's.
He took equal pride in his longevity as an announcer and in adhering to a "clear, concise, correct" style behind the microphone.
"You name it, I did it, and without emotion," he said, "which is amazing when you think about the public-address announcers in the world today. They are screamers."
Mr. Sheppard arrived early at games to check how ballplayers he didn't know pronounced their names, a professional courtesy that he had also extended to students in his high school classes.
Aside from DiMaggio, whose name Mr. Sheppard said he enjoyed pronouncing, his first opening-day lineup at Yankee Stadium included Mickey Mantle, another player with a name the announcer said rolled enjoyably off his tongue because of its rhythm and alliteration.
As for other players, Mr. Sheppard said he found pleasure in introducing multisyllabic names like Alfonso Soriano rather than names like, for instance, Steve Sax.
One of Mr. Sheppard's most-exciting moments as a broadcaster occurred on Oct. 8, 1956. With two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning, the Yankees' Don Larsen was on the verge of pitching the first perfect game in World Series history.
And then, Mr. Sheppard recalled, "I had to introduce a pinch hitter, Dale Mitchell, for the Brooklyn Dodgers."
There ensued a few more tense minutes and then Mitchell was called out on strikes. As pandemonium broke out in the stadium, Mr. Sheppard said he exhaled, quietly, at last.

Newsday of New York contributed.

Read more: http://post-gazette.com/pg/10193/1072177-122.stm#ixzz0tUeGDfeO

Bob Sheppard, Voice of the Yankees, Dies at 99

By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN

Bob Sheppard, whose elegant intonation as the public-address announcer at Yankee Stadium for more than half a century personified the image of Yankees grandeur, died Sunday at his home in Baldwin, on Long Island. He was 99.
His death was confirmed by his son Paul.
From the last days of DiMaggio through the primes of Mantle, Berra, Jackson and Jeter, Sheppard’s precise, resonant, even Olympian elocution — he was sometimes called the Voice of God — greeted Yankees fans with the words, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Yankee Stadium.”
“The Yankees and Bob Sheppard were a marriage made in heaven,” said Paul Sheppard, a 71-year-old financial adviser. “I know St. Peter will now recruit him. If you’re lucky enough to go to heaven, you’ll be greeted by a voice, saying: ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to heaven!’ ”
In an era of blaring stadium music, of public-address announcers styling themselves as entertainers and cheerleaders, Sheppard, a man with a passion for poetry and Shakespeare, shunned hyperbole.
“A public-address announcer should be clear, concise, correct,” he said. “He should not be colorful, cute or comic.”
Sheppard was also the public-address announcer for the football Giants from 1956 through 2005, first at Yankee Stadium and then at Giants Stadium in the New Jersey Meadowlands.
He signed a new two-year contract with the Yankees in March 2008 but was not at the stadium that season, when he was recovering from illness that brought a severe weight loss. His longtime backup, Jim Hall, replaced him.
Sheppard did not feel strong enough to attend the ceremony marking the final game at the old Yankee Stadium on Sept. 21, 2008, but he announced the Yankees’ starting lineup that night in a tape recording. His recorded voice still introduces Derek Jeter at the plate, a touch the Yankees’ captain requested to honor Sheppard.
“He’s as much a part of this organization as any player,” Jeter said Sunday. “Even though the players change year in and year out, he was the one constant at Yankee Stadium. He was part of the experience.” Sheppard was the chairman of the speech department at John Adams High School in Queens and an adjunct professor of speech at St. John’s University while becoming a New York institution as a public-address announcer.
“I don’t change my pattern,” he once said. “I speak at Yankee Stadium the same way I do in a classroom, a saloon or reading the Gospel at Mass at St. Christopher’s.”
On May 7, 2000, Bob Sheppard Day at Yankee Stadium, the Yankees outfielder Paul O’Neill reflected on Sheppard’s aura.
“It’s the organ at church,” O’Neill told The Record of Hackensack, N.J. “Certain sounds and certain voices just belong in places. Obviously, his voice and Yankee Stadium have become one.”
Robert Leo Sheppard, who was born on Oct. 20, 1910, gained a passion for his calling while growing up in Queens.
“My father, Charles, and my mother, Eileen, each enjoyed poetry and music and public speaking,” Sheppard told Maury Allen in “Baseball: The Lives Behind the Seams.” “They were very precise in how they spoke,” he said. “They measured words, pronounced everything carefully and instilled a love of language in me by how they respected proper pronunciation.”
Sheppard played first base at St. John’s Prep and at St. John’s University, where he was also a quarterback.
While he was in high school, two Vincentian priests put him on the path toward a career in speech education.
“The combination there of one, the fiery orator, and the other, the semantic craftsman, probably presented a blending I wanted to imitate,” he once recalled.
Sheppard earned a bachelor’s degree in English and speech at St. John’s and a master’s degree in speech from Columbia before serving as a Navy officer during World War II. He became a speech teacher at John Adams upon his return and served as the public-address announcer for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Yankees of the All-America Football Conference.
He was hired by the baseball Yankees in 1951, and soon fans were hearing Sheppard’s pronunciation of “Joe Di-Mah-ggio.”
“I take great pride in how the names are pronounced,” Sheppard said. He seldom entered the clubhouses, but made certain to check directly with a visiting player if he had any doubt on the correct way to pronounce his name.
“Mick-ey Man-tle” was a favorite of his, but as Sheppard once told The Associated Press: “Anglo-Saxon names are not very euphonious. What can I do with Steve Sax? What can I do with Mickey Klutts?”
He enjoyed announcing the name of the Japanese pitcher Shigetoshi Hasegawa and the names of Latin players, particularly pitcher Salome Barojas and infielder Jose Valdivielso.
Sheppard feared he would trip over his pronunciation of Wayne Terwilliger, an infielder who played at Yankee Stadium with the Washington Senators and Kansas City Athletics in the 1950s. “I worried that I would say ‘Ter-wigg-ler’ but I never did,” he recalled.
But there was at least one flub.
When the football Giants played their first game at the Meadowlands, against the Dallas Cowboys in October 1976, Sheppard told the crowd: “Welcome to Yankee Stadium.”
On Bob Sheppard Day — during his 50th year with the Yankees — he was honored at a home-plate ceremony in which Walter Cronkite read the inscription on the plaque being unveiled for Monument Park behind the left-field fence. It stated in part that Sheppard “has announced the names of hundreds of players — both unfamiliar and legendary — with equal divine reverence.”
George Steinbrenner, the principal owner of the Yankees, said in a statement: “For over a half-century, fans were thrilled to hear his unforgettable voice and players were thrilled to hear his majestic enunciation of their names. Bob Sheppard was a great member of the Yankees family and his death leaves a lasting silence.”
He leaves behind his second wife, Mary; two sons, Paul and Chris; and two daughters, Barbara and Mary. His first wife, Margaret, the mother of all four children, died in 1959. He also leaves four grandchildren.
Sheppard had his imitators, most notably the ESPN broadcaster Jon Miller.
“One day when my wife and I were down in St. Thomas, we went into a restaurant,” Sheppard told The Village Voice in 2002. “I told the waitress, ‘I’ll have the No. 1. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast and black coffee. No. 1.’ My wife looked at me and said. ‘You sound like Jon Miller’s imitation.’ I wasn’t conscious of the fact that I was ordering the same way I’d introduce Billy Martin.”

Ben Shpigel contributed reporting from Seattle and Joseph Berger from New York.

The Passing of a Legend - Bob Sheppard - AP Story

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NEW YORK (AP) - Bob Sheppard, whose elegant introductions of stars from Joe DiMaggio to Derek Jeter at Yankee Stadium for more than a half century earned him the nickname "The Voice of God," died Sunday. He was 99.

The revered public address announcer died at his Long Island home in Baldwin with his wife, Mary, at his side, the Yankees said.

Sheppard started with the Yankees in 1951 and he last worked at Yankee Stadium late in the 2007 season, when he became ill with a bronchial infection. He recorded a greeting to fans that was played at the original ballpark's final game on Sept. 21, 2008, and his audio recording still is used to introduce Jeter before each at-bat at home by the Yankees captain.

When the team moved into new Yankee Stadium last year, it honored him by naming the media dining room after him.

While Sheppard didn't like to give his age, a former Yankees official confirmed in 2006 that Sheppard was born Oct. 20, 1910.

The Yankees' lineup for Sheppard's first game on April 17, 1951, included DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Johnny Mize, Yogi Berra, and Phil Rizzuto. And the opponents that day, the Boston Red Sox, were led by Ted Williams.

Sheppard became as much as a fixture in the Bronx ballpark as the familiar white stadium facade or Monument Park, tucked behind the blue outfield wall.

On May 7, 2000, after 50 years and two weeks on the job, the team honored him with "Bob Sheppard Day" and put a plaque in his honor in Monument Park. Fans gave Sheppard a standing ovation, and legendary news anchor Walter Cronkite read the inscription. Berra, Reggie Jackson and Don Larsen were among those who stood on the field during the ceremonies.

"The voice of Yankee Stadium," read the plaque. "For half a century, he has welcomed generations of fans with his trademark greeting, 'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Yankee Stadium.'"

He also served as the stadium voice of the NFL's New Yor k Giants from 1956-05, and for men's basketball and football at St. John's University, where he taught, for Army football and the Cosmos soccer team. He also announced for the American Football League's New York Titans at the Polo Grounds and the World Football League's New York Stars at Downing Stadium.

But baseball is what made him famous. Babe Ruth gave Yankee Stadium its nickname, but Sheppard gave the ballpark its sound.

He announced at 62 World Series games and a pair of All-Star games, and introduced more than 70 Hall of Famers across his career. It was one of them, Jackson, who dubbed Sheppard "The Voice of God."

"A voice that you hear in your dreams, in your sleep," Braves third baseman Chipper Jones said Sunday. "Today's a sad day."

Sheppard's player introductions remained consistent throughout the decades, with Sheppard imbuing each name and number with a gravitas more in keeping with a coronation than a ballpark outing: "No. 7. Mickey Mantl e. No. 7." Or even "No. 58. Dooley Womack. No. 58."

Unlike the shrill shills of later generations, Sheppard conducted himself with an understated and dignified delivery. He employed perfect diction, befitting a man who considered his real job teaching speech at St. John's. He graduated from the school in 1932 and later worked there for more than 25 years.

"A P.A. announcer is not a cheerleader, or a circus barker, or a hometown screecher," the epitome of the old-school style once said. "He's a reporter."

Sheppard's favorite Yankee Stadium moment was Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series, but his dulcet tones defined New York sports for the second half of the 20th century and beyond. He also was the stadium announcer for the "greatest football game ever played," the Baltimore Colts' 23-17 sudden-death victory over the Giants in 1958.

He was on hand when Roger Maris hit home run No. 61, when Jackson hit three homers in a single World Series game , when the Giants finally reached the Super Bowl. He never missed an opening day at Yankee Stadium from 1951 until a hip injury sidelined him in 2006.

Sheppard, who followed the Giants across the Hudson River when they moved to New Jersey, received a ring after the team won its first Super Bowl in the 1986 season; it complemented his Yankees' World Series jewelry. His football calls covered the Giants from Frank Gifford through Tiki Barber.

While few might have recognized Sheppard in person, his voice was unmistakable. Once, while ordering a Scotch and soda at a bar, Sheppard watched as heads turned his way. He often read at Mass, and was subsequently greeted by parishioners noting he sounded exactly like the announcer at Yankee Stadium.

"I am," he would reply.

At his Yankees debut, the first name Sheppard announced was DiMaggio - Dom DiMaggio, the center fielder for the Red Sox. The Yankees' lineup included five Hall of Famers: Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, B erra, Mize and Rizzuto; the Sox had three more, Williams, Bobby Doerr and Lou Boudreau.

His favorite names to announce, in order, have been Mantle, Shigetoshi Hasegawa, Salome Barojas, Jose Valdivielso and Alvaro Espinoza. He preferred the names of Latin players.

"Anglo-Saxon names are not very euphonious," he said. "What can I do with Steve Sax? What can I do with Mickey Klutts?"

But it wasn't the players who made Sheppard's work special.

"Mr. Sheppard could read Eminem lyrics and make them sound like the Magna Carta," Clybe Haberman wrote in The New York Times five years ago.

While he didn't like to reveal his age, it could be pinpointed because he was the quarterback of St. John's football team from 1928-31. The left-hander was a first baseman for the university in the springtime.

Sheppard began his announcing career at an exhibition football game, which led to a job with the long defunct Brooklyn Dodgers of the All-American Conference i n 1947. When they folded a year later, he was hired by the football New York Yankees, who played at Yankee Stadium.

Management with the baseball Yankees liked his approach, and Sheppard was on board for opening day in 1951.

Even the players treated Sheppard with a degree of reverence. Mantle once said that every time Sheppard introduced him, he felt goose bumps. "Mickey, so did I," Sheppard responded quietly.

Sheppard, while proud of his work with the Yankees, also was known for his speaking as a church lector. He taught priests how to give sermons.

"I electrified the seminary by saying seven minutes is long enough on a Sunday morning. Seven minutes. But I don't think they listened to me," he told The Associated Press in 2006. "The best-known speech in American history is the Gettysburg Address, and it's about four minutes long. Isn't that something?"

He said one of his most challenging tasks as a teacher was when Jackson needed help with his Hal l of Fame induction speech in 1993. Jackson planned to speak for 40 minutes, and Sheppard implored him to cut.

"Too much you," Jackson said slowly, mimicking Sheppard's voice.

When Sheppard missed the 1997 division series, ending his streak of 121 consecutive postseason games worked at Yankee Stadium, he was replaced by Jim Hall, his longtime sub. Paul Olden took over when the Yankees moved to the new ballpark in 2009.

In addition to his wife, Sheppard is survived by sons Paul and Christopher, daughters Barbara and Mary, four grandchildren and at least nine great-grandchildren.

A wake will be held Tuesday and Wednesday, with the funeral Thursday in Baldwin.


Copyright © 2010 The Associated Press

On the passing of Bob Sheppard - by Bob Ryan - Boston Globe

 

On the passing of Bob Sheppard

E-mail|Link|Comments (11) Posted by Bob Ryan, Globe Staff July 12, 2010 10:10 AM

Didn't know him, but didn't we all feel as if we did?
Speaking of the late Bob Sheppard, who raised the art of sports public address announcing to an other-worldly state, of course. You may hate the Yankees, but you could only admire Bob Sheppard, who made attending Yankee games semi-religious experiences the instant he opened his mouth to emit those glorious tones.
I have somewhere in my possession a cassette tape -- kiddies, ask your dad and mom -- of a mid-80s radio interview I was part of with Jon Miller, the Hall of Fame broadcaster (not that the fools running WITS at the time had any idea), who himself has a phenomenal voice, and who does spot-on imitations of many, including Sherm Feller, Vin Scully and, yes, Bob Sheppard. In the course of this interview, Miller had Bob Sheppard ordering breakfast. I really and truly laughed into tears, right there on the air. It is beyond priceless.
Well, guess what? At the tail end of Richard Goldstein's New York Times obituary, he has Sheppard telling a tale of ordering breakfast at a NYC eatery, only to have the waitress say, "You sound like Jon Miller's imitation."
I didn't see it in any of his journalistic tributes, but I am sure he had said many times that of all the events for which he did the PA, starting with the Brooklyn Dodgers football games in the old AAFC, his all-time favorite time was the famed Colts-Giants 1958 sudden-death OT classic.
And how about this? The first time I attended a basketball game at St. John's, guess who did the PA?
He had a particular fondness for Spanish-sounding names, according to all the testimony, but one of my favorites was "Frank Cat-a-la-not-to. Cat-a-la-not-to." I'm sure you have yours.
For a while I thought it was too bad he never got to work in the new Yankee Stadium, but now I think it's just as well. He belongs to the old one, not the crass new one with the unoccupied high-roller seats behind home plate.
Listen closely when Derek Jeter steps in there Tuesday night. They will use the Sheppard intro. So we know baseball knows how to do at least one thing right.

YANKEES NEWS ALERT - The Passing of Bob Sheppard

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YANKEES NEWS ALERT
=================================================================
July 11, 2010

YANKEES LONGTIME PUBLIC ADDRESS ANNOUNCER BOB SHEPPARD PASSES AWAY
It is with deep sadness that the New York Yankees announce the 
passing of longtime public address announcer Bob Sheppard - 
"The Voice of Yankee Stadium." Sheppard passed away this 
morning at his home in Baldwin, N.Y., with his wife, Mary, 
by his side. He was 99 years old. 

Born in Ridgewood, Queens, Sheppard began his tenure as Yankees public 
address announcer on April 17, 1951-Opening Day of Joe DiMaggio's final 
season and Mickey Mantle's Major League debut. Among the approximately 
4,500 baseball games he worked over his tenure with the Yankees were 
an incredible 121 consecutive postseason contests (1951-2006), including 
62 games in 22 World Series. 

"Most men go to work, but I go to a game," Sheppard said. "How many men 
would love to do that?" 

'Voice of God' Bob Sheppard dies at 99 - Newsday

'Voice of God' Bob Sheppard dies at 99

July 11, 2010 by MARK HERRMANN / mark.herrmann@newsday.com

When Bob Sheppard said "Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen," people paid attention, and they did so for 56 years. His dignified intonations at Yankees games were so distinctively clear, correct and concise that Reggie Jackson once called him, "the voice of God."
Sheppard, who became one of the major figures in Yankees history even though he never came to bat or threw a pitch, died this morning at his home in Baldwin. He was 99.
His son Christopher, who was with him, as was Sheppard's wife Mary, said his father died peacefully at 6:28 a.m. Sheppard had spent most of his time at home in recent years, after complications from an infection prevented him from appearing at Yankees games after 2007.

So he never did get to read the lineups in his unmistakable fashion at the new Yankee Stadium. But his voice is played on a recording every time Derek Jeter comes to the plate, at Jeter's request. That is an enduring tribute to timelessness of the public address announcer who began his career on April 17, 1951-Joe DiMaggio's final Opening Day and Mickey Mantle's first.
Sheppard also was the voice of the football Giants for 50 years, moving with them from Yankee Stadium to the Meadowlands. He did public address announcing for basketball games at St. John's University, his alma mater and later his employer through many years as a speech instructor.
Yankee games, however, were the source of his greatest fame. The team enshrined him with a plaque in Monument Park on May 7, 2000. His son Christopher said later, "He used to say, `I'm out there with Yogi Berra and the popes, that's not bad.' "
He worked 22 World Series, three perfect games and six no-hitters. Even in the age of intensified noise and myriad sound effects at ballparks, he never varied from the style he employed the day he first announced Dom DiMaggio, Boston's leadoff batter in that 1951 game (Sheppard years later admitted that he almost said "Vince," another of the DiMaggio brothers).
Even though he was unable to attend the closing of the old Yankee Stadium, he was part of the ceremony at the final game. He read a videotaped verse that he wrote: "Farewell, old Yankee Stadium, farewell/What a wonderful story you can tell / DiMaggio, Mantle, Gehrig and Ruth / A baseball cathedral in truth."
Generations of ballplayers said it was a distinction and a rite of passage to hear their names announced by Sheppard. Former manager Buck Showalter once said that coach Brian Butterfield broke into tears when he heard Sheppard say his name. Jackson, who does one of the better Sheppard imitations, is widely quoted as calling him "the voice of God," although Sheppard himself once said he heard that Rusty Staub had used the phrase earlier.
"Clear, concise, correct," he always said when he was asked to describe his approach. In a 1999 Newsday interview, he said, "I'm not a cheerleader; I don't think a public address announcer should be one. I'm not a circus barker, who strings out the announcement of a home team player. That curdles my spirit when I hear it. But then again, that's their style."
Sheppard became a public address announcer by accident, and by just trying to help. The former quarterback had attended St. John's on a football scholarship and was a speech major. He studied for his master's at Columbia, taught in public schools, served in the Navy in World War II and made $25 a game as a semipro quarterback.
When he heard the New York Yankees football team was playing an exhibition against the Chicago Rockets at Freeport Stadium in the late 1940s, Sheppard volunteered to announce it. Branch Rickey, who owned the Brooklyn Dodgers football team, was at the game and offered Sheppard a job.
The Dodgers folded - "Branch Rickey took a bath on that," Sheppard said in 1996 - but the football Yankees hired him to be their public address announcer. "Then the baseball people heard me doing football and they asked me to do baseball," he said.
He became not only a fixture at Yankee Stadium, but part of American culture. His voice appeared in movies and TV series, including "61*" "Seinfeld," "Mad About You," "Anger Management" and "It Could Happen to You."
He and Mary (Sheppard's first wife died when Chris was a youngster) were longtime lectors at St. Christopher's Roman Catholic Church in Baldwin, reading scripture at mass. On Sundays during baseball season, Sheppard also was the lector during mass attended by employees, players, executives and media people at the Stadium.
Sheppard is survived by his wife, four children, four grandchildren and nine great-grandchilren. Funeral arrangements have not been finalized but tentative plans, his son said, are for viewing at Fullerton Funeral Home, Baldwin, on Tuesday and Wednesday and mass at St. Christopher's on Thursday.