Bill Mazer, who died Wednesday a week short of 93, was a remarkable man, one apparently born to speak sports — often while holding one-way, multiple-trail conversations — into a microphone.
During his 20 years as Ch. 5’s 10 o’clock news sports anchor, he would return to the air after 11 p.m. to provide a brief, no-frills recap and to update late games. He would appear from a desk in his office.
One night, Ch. 5 was on when Mazer called. So Mazer and I were chatting, my eyes absently watching Ch. 5, when he casually said, “Hold on a second.”
At that point, Mazer appeared on my screen to give his late report. And he nailed every score and scorer as if he’d memorized them, which, seconds before he called me, he likely had — in a quick glance.
And as I’m watching Mazer on TV, I see a telephone, off the hook, on his desk. He wrapped up his report, disappeared from view, then he resumed our phone chat — on that phone.
I tried to tell him that he just blew me away. He just treated live TV as supernaturally natural, as if it were as easy as squeezing mustard on a hot dog.
He didn’t grasp my amazement. To him, it was just another end to another day at the office.
Mazer also unintentionally taught me lasting lessons about those on TV, radio and in show biz, performers of all kinds, how even the most successful careers can bring fame, fortune and haunting insecurities.
Bill Mazer was one of the biggest names — and most recognizable faces and voices — in both TV and radio’s biggest basket. Yet, his sense of unfulfillment — what he could’ve and should’ve been — he carried close to his surface.
There was a late afternoon when Mazer and I walked about 20 Manhattan blocks together. As he talked, I watched people watching Mazer. Every few steps, someone recognized him, shouted “Hi, Bill!” exclaimed “Bill Mazer!” or nudged their companions and mouthed, “That’s Bill Mazer.”
He nodded, smiled and waved — habit-formed appreciation and politeness — as we kept walking and talking.
This went on for nearly a half hour. In the biggest city in the nation, it seemed everyone recognized Bill Mazer, brightened to see him, would say at dinner, “Guess who I saw on the street today?”
And all the time we walked, Mazer spoke of how he could’ve made it — could’ve made it big — if only he had been cut a break, given a chance, if only …
* * *
So you’re Logan Ryan, a South Jersey kid then a college man, Rutgers. And now you’re a rookie NFL DB, a professional playing for the Patriots.
In the first quarter of Sunday’s game against the Jets, as seen by hundreds of thousands on CBS, you intercept a short pass in the near flat, and, with everyone headed the other way, you have a clear shot to the end zone, 79 yards away.
This is it. What you’ve dreamed about. An interception and then an all alone run to the end zone. Who knows if you’ll again have such an opportunity.
So this is a keeper. This tape I’ll proudly show to my family, my kids, my grandkids.
But when I get to the end zone, I turn around to face both teams and most of the crowd; I crudely and lewdly place my hand over my crotch, then fall over, backwards, to complete my performance.
Photo: SB Nation
And now I’m stuck with that. What was I thinking? Why would I do that? Is it too late for me to have that moment back? Provided you’re Logan Ryan, and wouldn’t do the same thing, again.
Reggie not too mad at ESPN
Selling his new book on HBO’s “Real Sports” Tuesday night, Reggie Jackson, who throughout his MLB career seemed to enjoy mistreating the “little people” in and around baseball, told Bryant Gumbel he will not deal with ESPN due to his portrayal in ESPN’s Billy Martin movie “The Bronx Is Burning.”
A day and a half later, yesterday morning, Jackson was selling his book on ESPN’s “Mike & Mike Show.”
* * *
Tuesday ESPN debuts its independently produced documentary on the Islanders’ brief ownership by con artist John Spano, who still doesn’t get it, and would be convicted of another fraud after serving time for his NHL scam.
But, because ESPN is not much into quality control — aka foresight — it appeared head-to-head against a live Islanders game.
While we’re at it, Mike Tirico, in promoting the Spano doc during “Monday Night Football,” spoke bad guesswork as fact. First he said the Isles now play in Brooklyn, then amended that to they will play next season in Brooklyn. They’re scheduled to begin in Brooklyn in 2015.
Sterling set for kitties
Thus far, John Sterling being assigned to call cable’s Super Bowl Sunday “Kitten Bowl” has not met with PETA’s approval. “Ya never know what’s in a hair ball, Suzyn.” Was Kitty Kaat unavailable?
More great graphics: Saturday, as Tennessee’s Michael Palardy was about to kick the game-winning/ending field goal against South Carolina — a 19-yarder, the snap was from the 2 — ESPN let us know that Palardy’s longest was from 52 yards. … Wednesday, Ch. 2 News ID’d Harry Carson as “former Jets player.”
Reader Pat Proietti notes ESPN’s Jon Gruden so often referenced the “Double-A gap,” during Vikings-Giants, “I thought he was marketing a new sports bra.”
And reader David Sacco was disappointed that after Gruden said “23 turnovers in six games are way too much for a Tom Coughlin-coached team,” Gruden didn’t mention “which coaches would be OK with that.”
While we’re at it, reader Michael Goodwin writes that NBC/NFLN’s Mike Mayock “is a joyless taskmaster who forgets that viewers watch for pleasure, not for a clinic.”
As for Mayock — among many, of late — why are underthrown passes completed near the center of the field never called “back-shoulder passes”? Yet, all underthrown sideline passes — regardless of whether they’re intentionally underthrown — are now “back-shoulder” numbers.
We’ll always give Mike Francesa credit for the gall to say things about himself few would think, let alone publicly speak. Tuesday, he interrupted Bobby Orr to tell him they have knee surgery in common — as if both were reliant on their legs to make a living. Yep, Francesa knows the deal — even if Orr’s career was shortened by more than 12 knee surgeries!