Holy Toledo, Milo's retiring! Farewell, and thanks for the memories.

Though the Astros have the worst record in baseball and were 39.5 games behind their opponent the standings, Sunday’s game was special. On September 2, the voice of the Astros, Milo Hamilton, turned 85. At the end of this season, he will finally retire.

When I moved to Houston in 1991, baseball did not interest me a bit, and I had never been to a college or major league game. A friend took me to my first game at the Astrodome, but Milo kept me coming back. 

When I was throwing the Houston Chronicle for a living, I slept at odd hours, including during baseball games. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I came up with a system. I bought two 120-minutes-per-side cassette tapes, and labeled them Baseball I and Baseball II, each with sides A and B. I also purchased two turn-the-dial timers, the sort you can plug lamps into so potential robbers think you're at home when you're really on vacation. (Have not actually tried this myself, but I hear it’s a good idea.)

For a 7:05 game, I would program the first tape player to come on at 6:30 (had to hear the pregame show), and the second to come on around 8:15 (allowed a little overlap, because my timers weren't digital--had to estimate a bit.) Then I'd go to bed in the late afternoon, and set my alarm clock for 10:00 p.m. I turned the volume on the cassette players all the way down so I couldn't hear anything. The broadcast would play directly into the tape, regardless of the volume setting. At 10:00, I would get up, flip both tapes over to side B, advance my timers to just under 2 hours later, and go back to bed. At 1:00 a.m., I'd get up, grab my cassettes, climb into my 1977 Olds Cutlass, and head to the newspaper warehouse. 

When I arrived, everyone knew not to tell me who won the Astros game. Billy, our truck driver, would look at the front page and the sports page to see whether the Astros article fell above or below the fold. Then he would stack my bundles upside down, or whichever way he needed, to hide the score. I'd roll my papers, stick Baseball I, Side A, into my tape player, and take off. 

There’s nothing like driving through a neighborhood at 4 a.m, blasting the Astros on the radio. Bases loaded, bottom of the 9^th, 2 outs, could they come through? Early morning joggers would do a double-take when they passed my car and heard Milo Hamilton shouting, “Holy Toledo, put a blue star on that one!!” 

If the game was a low-scoring one with quick pitchers, it might end around the same time my paper route ended. But the neat thing about baseball is the absence of a time limit. The game could end in the middle of Baseball 2-A, or I might have to flip to Baseball 1-B. Extra innings meant another flip to Baseball 2-B. Once in a while, that wouldn’t be enough and 2-B would end with the game still tied. Very disappointing. 

When I went to grad school, baseball came with me. On the way home from class on Thursday morning, I would stop by the Astrodome for a matinee game (Don’t worry, this was my first stint in grad school, not the current one—I began my PhD several years after the Astrodome’s retirement.) I’d pay $2 for early bird parking, and buy a $4 general admission ticket in the outfield deck. I brought my math books and, more importantly, my headphone radio. Most day games had dollar hot dogs, so no need to buy lunch on the way. Dogs in hand, I searched for the perfect seat. I tried for the left-field side, because my headphones’ built-in radio, by my right ear, seemed to get better reception with my head turned slightly left. (If I had to turn my head, I wanted to see the playing field, not the stands.)  

My fellow Astros fans thought I was a total nerd, and they were probably right. I spent most of the game working on homework. Yes, my eyes may have missed parts of the game, but that was just fine—Milo Hamilton’s voice was in my ear, painting an action-filled picture of every play. I would have missed far more if I’d only watched the game, without listening to Milo. And if you have to do homework, where would you rather do it? In the outfield deck of the Astrodome, enjoying an afternoon of live baseball? Or at home watching baseball on TV? 

Thank you Milo, for teaching me to love baseball. Thank you, Milo, for bringing the game and the players to life. It won’t be the same without you. 

Happy Birthday Milo, and Godspeed.

After the 2010 Astros 5K, I borrowed a pen and got Milo's autograph.
It's not quite as clear as when he signed my ball, but it's still Milo.

The bobblehead we received at Sunday's game.