Amazon.com
"Style, not shtick. Wit, not bombast." That's the way Bob Costas describes longtime San Francisco Giants broadcaster Hank Greenwald's on-air voice in his foreword to Greenwald's acerbically free-wheeling look back at his years in the booth. It's a description that also goes a long way toward characterizing the man and his memoir. Greenwald, now retired from the grind of day-to-day game-calling, was a rarity on the air. He not only knew how to make a game come alive, but also how to liven up the pauses in action with a genuine humor that was funny but not self-serving, self-referential, or worse, self-reverential. Not surprisingly, This Copyrighted Broadcast reflects that balancing act: it's smart in its look at the state of the game, on and particularly off the field (to wit: "If there's one thing owners don't accept, it's blame. They don't have to, they're owners"; "What a shame baseball is so insecure about itself"), it's funny, it's honest (wait till you see what Greenwald has to say about Barry Bonds), it's daring in what it reveals about broadcasting and some of the absurdities of being a ball club's paid mouthpiece--unless you're an institution like Harry Caray, you don't always get to call it like you see it--and it's poignant in its revelations about family, especially concerning Greenwald's remarkable relationship with a daughter who has Down's Syndrome. But mostly, it's a collection of terrific anecdotes from a man who knows how to tells stories, move things along, and amuse with skill and absolute timing. This is, after all, the announcer who, when told by a producer to shorten his sign-on of a game from Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium, looked directly into the camera and bid fans a good evening from Two Rivers Stadium. --Jeff Silverman
Publisher comments
"There is more to Hank Greenwald than just baseball."
When my longtime friend Hank Greenwald and I first discussed his writing a book, we agreed on two key points -- that it would be a "national" book and that it would delve into aspects of his life other than sports. I knew then that Hank's unique and endearing sense of humor would come through, and that his fascinating interests would give the book the depth it needed to separate it form other sportscaster's memoirs. Hank broadcast the Giants and the Yankees. So, from both leagues and both coasts, there is plenty of inside baseball. But the special treat, among many wonderful moments, may be the touching chapter about his Down syndrome daughter, Kellie. She's a baseball fan in every sense, including a keen interest in who is married and who isn't. In a restaurant once she spotted Joe DiMaggio entering and raced toward him before her parents could dissuade her. "Hey, Joe," she said, "are you married?" The Yankee Clipper gave her a hug and said, "No, sweetheart, I'm just waiting for you."
When my longtime friend Hank Greenwald and I first discussed his writing a book, we agreed on two key points -- that it would be a "national" book and that it would delve into aspects of his life other than sports. I knew then that Hank's unique and endearing sense of humor would come through, and that his fascinating interests would give the book the depth it needed to separate it form other sportscaster's memoirs. Hank broadcast the Giants and the Yankees. So, from both leagues and both coasts, there is plenty of inside baseball. But the special treat, among many wonderful moments, may be the touching chapter about his Down syndrome daughter, Kellie. She's a baseball fan in every sense, including a keen interest in who is married and who isn't. In a restaurant once she spotted Joe DiMaggio entering and raced toward him before her parents could dissuade her. "Hey, Joe," she said, "are you married?" The Yankee Clipper gave her a hug and said, "No, sweetheart, I'm just waiting for you."
