Vince Scully was a bard, a storyteller, a conduit beaming out to many the athletic prowess dancing upon the green fields below him. My parents had moved from NYC to Los Angeles in the 1950s, the same time the Brooklyn Dodgers made themselves similar transplants. An eager journalist, I called Dodger Stadium one day to inquire if Mr. Scully might be available for an interview to be published in Orange Coast Magazine. Honoring this conversation with him in the Dodgers press box from nearly 40 years ago. Rest in the green fields of peace, Mr. Scully.
