He flips his scorebook to a blank page, then gazes at the empty ballpark in front of him, his daily moment to dream. After eight decades on this planet and six in front of a microphone, he still arrives four hours before game time, still tickled by the anticipation of a new game and what it might bring.
He has little patience for a new wave of broadcasters prone to diverting the spotlight from the game to the person calling it. That is what has made these past few weeks so awkward for Dick Enberg. He is retiring at the end of the season, and the spotlight has found him, as it should.