Dave Niehaus

It was July 15, 1999. As the sold-out crowd of over 44,000 rose to their feet, clapping and whistling for the man walking toward the pitcher’s mound, Brad Adam looked on in mild shock. A sportscaster for KATU, the ABC affiliate in Portland, Oregon, he’d anticipated seeing Ken Griffey Jr. throw out the first pitch in the Seattle Mariners’ new ballpark, already known colloquially as “The House That Griffey Built.” The plans for who would receive the honors had been a closely guarded secret, but Adam had learned just a few minutes before that the Mariners’ radio play-by-play announcer would toss the ball. “A broadcaster?” he thought. “What’s that all about?”1

Even more strangely – at least to Adam, who’d only been in the Northwest for less than three years – every fan at Safeco Field seemed to know who the man was before his name was announced over the stadium speakers. And despite the cloudy haze coming off Puget Sound, the crowd’s spirits were not dampened, seemingly unperturbed about the lack of visiting dignitaries or effervescent superstars claiming center stage. For the fans, Dave Niehaus’s inauguration of the Mariners’ new home made perfect sense. He’d been there since the beginning, after all.

Niehaus’s voice had brightened the tomblike atmosphere of the Kingdome, the Mariners’ former ballpark, for 23 years, calling the play-by-play for virtually every game they’d ever played since their beginning in 1977. Adam, however, had heard only a few clips of Niehaus played on nightly highlights shows. Such glimpses could never have prepared him for the fans’ reaction.

“I was blown away,” he recalled. “I’d never seen a reaction like that from the fans, a standing ovation for a broadcaster.” A year later, Adam accepted a job with Root Sports anchoring the Mariners pregame and postgame shows, a job he still held as of 2025. He quickly came to realize why the crowd roared as loudly for Niehaus as they would have for one of their star players. “Once I began working at Root Sports and interacting with Dave and listening to his broadcasts on a daily basis during the season, I think it’s funny now that I knew so little about the magnitude of the love that Seattle fans had for him. It was awesome to see.”2

This adoration – a devotion that has seen a statue built and a street renamed in honor of an announcer – is both rare and incredibly special. How Niehaus developed the broadcasting style that made him a Seattle legend is one that fits perfectly into the overarching Mariners narrative, a combination of passion and personality, grit, and the love of a good story. And it is quite a story, my oh my.

In hindsight, it seems almost preordained that Jack and Delania Niehaus welcomed their first and only child, David Arnold Niehaus, on February 19, 1935.3 As pitchers and catchers began to report to Florida to rid themselves of their winter cobwebs, Princeton, Indiana, greeted its newest citizen and its own future Hall of Famer, a storyteller shaped by his setting and surroundings, family and friends, love of people, and love of the game.

Jack and Delania were loving and attentive to young Dave, exhibiting the kind of devotion that is unique to parents of an only child. From late spring to early fall, the family would gather round the radio to listen to that day’s chapter in the year’s baseball story. Such broadcasters as Harry Caray of the Cardinals, Bob Elson of the White Sox, and Jack Brickhouse of the Cubs drew Dave in with their storytelling abilities, casting an enchanting and enduring spell. Their reports fed his desire to learn more about the game. He carefully studied box scores, picturing in his mind the story they told and how he might describe the scene as he pored over the daily newspaper.

Three pivotal moments put Niehaus on the path to his life’s calling. The first came at an early age. As Billy Mac pointed out in My, Oh My: The Dave Niehaus Story, Dave became a voracious reader and developed an addiction to the morning crossword puzzle, both of which would grow into lifelong habits.

The second occurred at age 12, when he discovered Dick Shively, the Evansville Braves broadcaster who depicted road game action from the studio rather than the ballpark. Dave’s mind boggled at Shively’s ability to create a whole world using only game information gathered from a ticker tape along with studio sound effects. In the 1950s and ’60s, Dave would recall these experiences and draw upon them to broadcast his own re-creations. He enjoyed greatly the challenge of helping the listeners, as he put it, “feel like they’re at the park.”4

The serendipitous opening of a degree in radio and television during Niehaus’s junior year at Indiana University marked the third. After some soul-searching over abandoning a pledge to his father to attend dental school,5 he auditioned and was accepted into the program, receiving his bachelor’s degree in 1957.

After graduation, a friend’s help secured Dave a position with NBC in Los Angeles, a place he’d always wanted to see. He’d just become comfortable with the new job and new environs when fate stepped in again. In June 1958 he was drafted into the US Army.

Another of Niehaus’s supporters stepped in to help steer his path. An NBC supervisor urged the draft board to assign Niehaus to the Armed Forces Radio Service. After an audition and quick acceptance, he was stationed at the broadcasting unit in New York City. During his tour of duty (1958-1960), he broadcast college basketball as well as re-creations of major-league baseball games. Painting pictures of these games for those stationed overseas allowed him to hone his gift of storytelling.

Throughout the 1960s, Niehaus lived in the Los Angeles area, working for radio station KMPC broadcasting UCLA football and basketball and Los Angeles Rams football. Then, in 1969, he was personally chosen by station owner Gene Autry to be the third man in the broadcast crew for California Angels baseball, joining Dick Enberg and Don Wells. In 1973 Wells was replaced by Don Drysdale, who would become a lifelong friend.6

There was an even more important moment in the 1960s, for on August 22, 1963, Niehaus became engaged to the woman he married four months later. Given Niehaus’s predilection for storytelling, it seems like poetic justice that the woman who became the love of his life was named Story. Marilyn Story was a grocer’s daughter whom Niehaus met at a party in 1962. The romance grew quickly and culminated in their marriage on December 27, 1963.7

As the 1970s dawned, Niehaus was relishing a full family life with Marilyn and their three children: David, Jr. “Andy” (b. 1964), Matthew (b. 1967), and Greta (b. 1970). He liked living in Northridge, close to Marilyn’s family. He was doing a job he loved with people he admired and respected, and Angels fans enjoyed listening to him. In other words, he saw no reason to be looking for other work. One of his listeners, though, thought he was destined for even greater things. Actor Danny Kaye, one of the partners of the newly formed Seattle Mariners, loved Niehaus’s work and wanted to see him bring his eager and descriptive style up north, telling the story of the Mariners from their inception. After some up-and-down negotiations, Dave Niehaus’s ultimate dream finally came true – he was now the lead broadcaster of a major-league baseball team.

The Mariners began play on April 6, 1977. As would be expected of any expansion team, their early years produced few wins. This did not deter Niehaus from introducing Seattle fans to his enthusiastic style and his signature catchphrases, including “swung on and belted … it will fly away” and “my oh my!” Although those early years saw Kingdome seats sparsely filled, the broadcasts continually received strong ratings. For many in the Pacific Northwest, listening to Niehaus became part of their summer ritual.

Writer and producer Alex Rubenstein put Niehaus’s ability to continually draw in listeners like this: “He had an infectious enthusiasm that made a random Tuesday night in August feel like Game Seven of the World Series; he simply had a unique way to connect with fans and bring the game to life.”8

Two of Niehaus’s longest-lasting professional partnerships began in 1983. Rick Rizzs came to the Mariners after five years broadcasting minor-league baseball and – with the exception of a three-year hiatus to replace a retiring Ernie Harwell calling Detroit Tiger games – worked side by side with Niehaus for the next 28 years.9 Kevin Cremin also joined the broadcast team in 1983. A year earlier, he had stepped in as an emergency radio engineer while Seattle was playing in Kansas City. Despite having no prior experience, something about him impressed Niehaus, who called him at the end of the season and offered him a full-time position as engineer for the broadcasts. Cremin took the position and remained the producer-engineer for Mariner broadcasts until 2017. Both Rizzs and Cremin built a lifelong friendship with Niehaus forged over broadcasts, long road trips, and late-night barbecue, spilling over into spending time with each other outside work, including during various family celebrations.10

Two seasons stand out among the 31 in which Niehaus broadcast Mariner games. The first was 1995. Because of the many inadequacies of the Kingdome, the team faced the very real possibility of moving to another city. After much political wrangling, it was decided that King County residents would vote on a new stadium public funding bill in September 1995. Popular opinion was that the Mariners’ fate hinged on having a strong season. Despite core players like Ken Griffey Jr., Edgar Martínez, and Randy Johnson, many pundits felt the odds of the team making the playoffs for the first time in their history were long.

Those faint hopes received a dashing blow on May 26 when Griffey went crashing into the outfield wall making an incredible catch but breaking his wrist in the process. Although they lost their superstar though mid-August, bench players kept doing just enough to keep the team on a .500 pace. They entered September in second place, 7½ games behind the suddenly vulnerable California Angels.

As the team and the fans awaited Junior’s return, Niehaus lifted their spirits by treating them to the debut of one of his signature catchphrases. On July 9 at Cleveland’s Jacobs Field, Tino Martinez hit a grand slam that gave the M’s a six-run lead. Niehaus’s excitement and creativity were on full display as he yelled, “Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma! It is grand salami time!”11 That phrase became cemented into Seattle lore, with all grand slams since known as a salami … and many a game-day hot-dog stand offering up their version of “grand salamis” to hungry fans.

Griffey Jr. returned to action on August 15 with the Mariners in third place, 11½ games behind the Angels. It seemed his return might have been too late. But the Angels proceeded to lose 12 of their next 15. Guarded excitement began to bubble up in the hearts of Mariner fans.

In September, Griffey blossomed back into form, producing a .971 OPS while smashing seven home runs. As the Angels continued to collapse, Seattle fans finally found their voices, filling the Kingdome with shouts of “Refuse to Lose!” The Mariners went 19-9 in September to end the season tied for the American League West Division lead. When Johnson struck out Tim Salmon to end a 9-1 victory in the tiebreaker game, Niehaus’s call of the historic moment reflected not only the excitement, but the wider context, encompassing the team’s fears and its dreams:

“Now the left-hander ready, branding iron hot! The 1-2 pitch … ‘K’ inserted! It’s over! Right over the heart of the plate! Randy looks to the sky that is covered by the dome and bedlam as the Mariners now erupt! Nineteen long years of frustration is over! I don’t believe it! My, oh my!”12

In its first-ever postseason, Seattle found itself in New York for the first two games, facing off against the Yankees in the Division Series. While the home team took both games, the Mariners put up a fight, stretching Game Two to 15 innings. As the series moved to Seattle, the pressure mounted and the Mariners responded with pure entertainment. Randy Johnson shut down the Yankees in Game Three, 7-4, and Edgar Martínez drove in seven runs in Game Four, leading them to an 11-8 come-from-behind win.

Throughout the series, Dave Niehaus was at his best, as though the thrill of finally calling playoff baseball had brought his talents to a new level, culminating with Game Five, a back-and-forth thriller that found the Mariners trailing 5-4 in the bottom of the 11th inning. With Joey Cora on third base and Griffey on first, Edgar Martínez lashed a double to the left-field corner. Niehaus responded with the call of his life:

“Right now, the Mariners looking for the tie. They would take a fly ball, they would love a base hit into the gap, and they could win it with Junior’s speed. The stretch … and the 0-and-1 pitch on the way to Edgar Martínez, swung on and LINED DOWN THE LEFT-FIELD LINE FOR A BASE HIT! HERE COMES JOEY, HERE IS JUNIOR TO THIRD BASE; THEY’RE GOING TO WAVE HIM IN! THE THROW TO THE PLATE WILL BE … LATE! THE MARINERS ARE GOING TO PLAY FOR THE AMERICAN LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! IT JUST CONTINUES! MY, OH MY!”13

That call is etched into the brains of a generation of Mariners fans. That call, superimposed on the left-hand side of a photograph of a grinning Griffey, sliding into home plate, his ecstatic teammates burying him in a pile of joy, is mounted above my monitor and after 30 years, it still makes me smile every day. That call brought a recognition and appreciation for Niehaus’s amazing talents beyond the fans of Seattle to a nationwide audience. That call may have helped save baseball in Seattle.

Another extraordinary season for the Mariners and their fans was 2001, and Niehaus, as usual, gave it his all. Going into that season, Johnson, Griffey, and Álex Rodríguez had, one by one, left Seattle. The loss of the three superstars made the team’s playoff hopes murky. That is, until the true value of their new right fielder, Japanese star Ichiro Suzuki, became apparent. The experts were not convinced that his slap-hitting style would translate to major-league baseball.14 As it turned out, by the eighth game of the season, against the Oakland Athletics, Ichiro was batting .371 with a .891 OPS. He didn’t start that night but entered in the eighth inning as a pinch-hitter and remained in the game to play right field. Terrence Long led off the bottom of the eighth with a single. After Jeremy Giambi flied out, Ramón Hernández stepped to the plate. What followed seemed as though it would be a routine single to right, leaving runners on the corners, but it became another Dave Niehaus call to remember.

“Terrence Long, his lead over at first, here comes the 3-and-2 pitch. Swung on and a groundball punched into right field for a base hit. So heading to third base is Long, the throw to third base AND THEY’VE GOT HIM NAILED AT THIRD BASE ON A TREMENDOUS THROW BY ICH–I–RO!, I’M HERE TO TELL YOU THAT ICHIRO THREW SOMETHING OUTTA STAR WARS! Down there to third base, he fired a shot about three feet off the ground all the way to David Bell and Terrence Long was D…O…A! My, oh my!”15

Seattle went on to win 116 games, tying the 1906 Chicago Cubs for the most wins in a season. But the September 11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, DC, cast a horrific pall over the nation. After a fearful, grief-filled week off, baseball resumed play, and the Mariners clinched the American League West title with a 5-0 victory over the Anaheim Angels the next day, September 19. Niehaus managed many moments of commendable alchemy during this time, blending the solemnity of the country’s mood while still celebrating the team’s remarkable achievement.

The Mariners won 93 games each of the next two seasons but failed to make the playoffs in either year. After the 2003 season, general manager Pat Gillick, the architect of the 2001 team, resigned. He was replaced by Bill Bavasi, whose poor decisions led to a dismal 319-386 record by the time of his dismissal in June 2008.

During this time, Niehaus was asked if all the losing ever left him a bit low. He responded, “No, I never get down. I’ve never been paid to go to work in my life, for crying out loud. I go to the ballpark every day, and if you love the game, that’s not work.”16 Instead, he celebrated his beloved baseball, talking up the continued excellence of Ichiro and reveling in Mike Cameron’s four-home-run game in 2002, the emergence of an outstanding young pitcher, Félix Hernández, and the return of Ken Griffey Jr. in 2009. Niehaus also shaped the way fans embraced the players, encouraging them to lengthen the name of outfielder Raul Ibañez to a hearty “Raaauuuuulll!” and exhorting them to fill up Hernández’s dedicated section “The King’s Court” on days he started at Safeco.

For Niehaus, the most noteworthy event of the twenty-first century’s first decade came on his 73rd birthday. He was just stepping out of the shower when the phone rang. The caller, National Baseball Hall of Fame President Dale Petroskey, informed him that he would receive the 2008 Ford C. Frick Award for outstanding broadcasting. Now what had been known by Mariners fans for years was made official – Dave Niehaus was worthy of being honored by the Hall of Fame.

In his induction speech on July 27, 2008, Niehaus spoke of Midwest roots that spawned his lifelong love for baseball, particularly baseball on the radio, and made sure the fans knew that he knew it was their support that had led him to such an honor. There was an emotional declaration of thanks to his wife, Marilyn, for her unwavering dedication through the years. He closed his speech by saying, “I know there are several bigger names who have preceded me in winning this award. And there will be several bigger names after me to win this award. But no one will ever be more appreciative.”17

The induction ceremonies at Cooperstown also brought into focus for Niehaus’s children how much his broadcasts meant to others. “When we went to Cooperstown, people kept coming up to us and telling us stories of how much they appreciated how he brought the game home to them,” said Greta Niehaus. Her brother Andy added, “It was wonderful to hear. It seemed as though everybody had a story to tell about meeting him or listening to him.”18

As Niehaus’s children were growing up, they didn’t view their father’s job as that remarkable. He just had a job that required a lot of night work and work trips. During the baseball season, the kids often found themselves attending “Camp Booth,” as they called it, sitting in the broadcast booth as a way of being with their dad. When not working, though, Dave made sure that time was spent with the kids and later the grandkids. He reveled in opportunities to gather with family and friends around a meal, particularly if it was barbecue. “Lots of professions don’t have nine-to-five scenarios, right?” reflected son Andy. “It was just our normal. And so we didn’t even think about it. It’s just what it was, but when he was here, he was a great father and a great grandfather. For him it was all about being in the moment.”19

In addition to being honored by the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Niehaus received a number of other accolades over the years. He was named one of the Seattle Times’s Top 10 Most Influential People of the Century. He was inducted into the Washington State Hall of Fame. He served as grand marshal of the Seafair Parade, a wildly popular Seattle summer event. The Washington State Association of Broadcasters named him Broadcaster of the Year in three consecutive years, 1995-1997, and again in 2004. In 1997 he was honored by the Washington State House of Representatives for “contributions to the quality of life in the Pacific Northwest.”20

These moments of recognition certainly buoyed him, but the honor closest to his heart (other than his inclusion in the “Scribes and Mikemen” section of the Hall of Fame, of course) was the “One World Award.” The Washington Council of the Blind bestowed the honor upon Niehaus in appreciation of the way his broadcasts painted detailed scenes, providing layered imagery that allowed visually impaired listeners to imagine the action on the field and thus feel connected to the game. Creating that connection was what Niehaus had always aspired to do with his career.21

Lifelong storyteller Dave Niehaus’s final sign-off came on November 10, 2010. While engaged in his favorite hobby – preparing some ribs for the barbecue – he collapsed and died of a heart attack. He was 75 years old. As word of his death spread throughout the Seattle area, fans flocked to Safeco Field to leave flowers and remembrances. Mariners flagship station 710-KIRO reran 1995 ALDS Game Five in its entirety. The team sponsored a memorial on November 13 that over 3,500 people attended, undeterred by the cold chill hanging over the field. Edgar Martínez, Dan Wilson, and Jay Buhner all shared their memories of the longtime broadcaster, and longtime partner Rick Rizzs gave the eulogy.

The next season, a statue of Niehaus sitting at his broadcast desk was erected inside Safeco Field, featuring an empty chair to allow fans to sit beside him. The ballpark’s television and radio broadcast booths and their production facilities were christened the Dave Niehaus Broadcast Center while the Seattle City Council unanimously voted to designate the portion of First Avenue South, which runs along home plate, Dave Niehaus Way South.22

“There will always be storytellers,” Niehaus had said. “There better be, that’s what baseball is all about. As long as you’ve got a guy who loves the game as much as I love it and will continue sharing that love for the game, I don’t think anything will be lost.”23

Seattle continues to miss Niehaus, but his legacy of sharing a love for baseball with the fans lives on. In recognition of this, the Mariners have continued to invite his widow, Marilyn, as Dave’s representative to be a part of on-field ceremonies honoring those having their numbers retired, entering the Mariners Hall of Fame or the National Hall of Fame. She always receives a warm reception when introduced for which she is very grateful.24

Interviews with the legendary broadcaster’s former colleagues reveal that, in addition to his sublime storytelling skills, he was a person of great warmth, always genuinely interested in what others had to say. Here’s but a small sample of how they spoke about Dave Niehaus:

Shannon Drayer (pregame and postgame radio host):

“There had never been a woman working in that booth before, there had never been a woman traveling with them on the team plane into the cities, and a part of that group. Dave Niehaus from day one treated me like a colleague. As big as he was, as much of a giant as he was, and me being the only woman in the booth, for him that didn’t matter, he treated me like a colleague right off the bat. That gave me so much confidence in what I was trying to do, which was hard at the time, and that is my first memory of him and how he helped me.”25

Gary Hill (current radio play-by-play announcer who grew up listening to Niehaus):

“I don’t remember any time in my life not wanting to be a Mariners play-by-play announcer. That was because of Dave Niehaus. I don’t remember a time growing up not having Dave. He got it all started for me. It just seemed so magical to me, the way Dave could pull you into the moment and help you see the game unfolding in your mind. I’ve been in love with it ever since, and Dave was the gateway.”26

Rick Rizzs (Niehaus’s broadcast partner for 25 seasons; the duo called close to 4,000 games together, one of the longest-lasting broadcaster partnerships in baseball history):

“What made Dave so great was he was a great storyteller like the Scullys and Allens, the Harwells and Carays were all great storytellers. And so Dave used all his experiences to make the game come alive and actually see the game on the radio. He made you feel like you were in the front row at the stadium. Nobody created the excitement and the drama to set it up better than Dave Niehaus. He captured every moment. He made you feel like you were there. He made those little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A lot of times the call was fabulous, but it was the set-up that set him apart.”27

Angie Mentink (pregame and postgame host for television, occasional color commentator):

“When I broke into broadcasting, there was still a lot of misgivings about women doing serious sports journalism, and people weren’t always forthcoming with me about sharing information. But Dave was great with me, He would constantly help me share information and then follow up with me to see if I needed anything more.

“And he was really kind. My favorite story about Dave was a time when I was getting ready to do an interview for the pregame show with my husband, Jarrett, who’d written some children’s books featuring Mariners players. He had our young son, Jaxen, with him. So Jarrett’s doing the interview and Dave took it upon himself to entertain Jaxen. Jaxen started singing ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’ and Dave sang with him, and he took the extra step of getting down on his haunches so he could be at Jackson’s level. They sang the whole song, and at the end Jaxen, who’d really only been to Mariner games, added the beginning notes of the theme song for the Mariner pregame show, which just tickled Dave. I’ll never forget that kindness.”28

It’s said that the key to finding your purpose in life is to find that place where your great passion connects with one of the world’s great needs. Dave Niehaus, though he likely didn’t think of it in those terms, did exactly that. He loved conversations; connecting with people meant hearing and telling stories. Baseball provided Niehaus with the opportunity to tell, win or lose, a unique story each day over the course of nine innings.

Most tellingly, Niehaus believed there was no greater privilege than to bring the stories of those games, those seasons to the thousands who tuned in their radios and found that the rhythm of late spring moving into summer and on into early autumn was restored upon hearing his voice bring those stories to them. That’s why his number-one mantra was “Just because it’s a bad ballgame doesn’t mean it has to be a bad broadcast.”29

By the end Niehaus had woven together 5,284 regular-season stories and 34 playoff stories. Through those stories he expounded on the exploits of 72 Hall of Famers, eight of whom played for the Mariners, including three who entered the Hall as a Mariner.30

Niehaus once remarked that what’s important is that “the people that listen to you are the people that don’t necessarily buy the tickets. These are the people that are the shut-ins, the people that can’t come to the ballpark. These are the people who tell me they can see the game through my eyes. And that tells me that you are doing your job when you do that.”31 For 31 years, Dave Niehaus showed Mariners fans exactly that – how to see this beautiful game of baseball. My, oh my.

SOURCES

In addition to the sources cited in the Notes, the author relied upon Baseball-Reference.com for all statistical information as well as a number of other sources.

NOTES

1 Author interview with Brad Adam, April 13, 2024.

2 Adam interview.

3 Except where otherwise noted, the majority of biographical information on Dave Niehaus’s early life was gleaned from Billy Mac, My, Oh My: The Dave Niehaus Story (Redmond, Washington: Sheepdog Press, 2017).

4 Mac, My, Oh My, 51.

5 Author interview with Rick Rizzs, November 18, 2023.

6 Les Carpenter, “A Storyteller of the Old School,” Seattle Times, June 2, 2003.

7 Author interview with Marilyn, Greta, and Andy Niehaus, September 7, 2025.

8 “The History of the Seattle Mariners: Supercut Edition,” produced by Jon Bois and Alex Rubenstein, posted September 24, 2020, by SB Nation, YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIgK56cAjfY 55:12.

9 Rizzs interview.

10 Author interview with Kevin Cremin, September 16, 2024.

11 Carpenter, “A Storyteller of the Old School.”

12 Seattle Mariners, “Dave Niehaus’ Greatest Calls,” Accessed May 18, 2024, 3:17, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiaWB2Rn6JA.

13 “Dave Niehaus-Edgar Martinez ‘The Double’ 1995 ALDS,” hosted by Jack Benjamin, Soundcloud.com, 0:08, https://soundcloud.com/jbenjaminpbp/dave-niehaus-edgar-martinez-the-double-1995-alds.

14 Larry Stone, “As Ichiro Enters Hall of Fame, Larry Stone Recalls Revealing Interviews,” Seattle Times, July 27, 2025.

15 “Dave Niehaus’ Greatest Calls.”

16 “Touch ’Em All: Denny Matthews and Dave Niehaus on Cooperstown, the Problem with Kids today and Grown Men Crying,” July 27, 2008, https://royals.mlblogs.com/touch-apos-em-all-denny-matthews-and-dave-niehaus-on-cooperstown-the-problem-with-kids-today-and-8a48e9dd401a.

17 Mac, My, Oh My, 328.

18 Niehaus family interview.

19 Niehaus family interview.

20 “Dave Niehaus Bio,” Seattle Times, November 10, 2010.

21 “Touch ’Em All: Denny Matthews and Dave Niehaus on Cooperstown, the Problem With Kids Today and Grown Men Crying.”

22 Geoff Baker, “Street Outside Safeco Field to Be Named ‘Dave Niehaus Way South,’” Seattle Times, April 5, 2011.

23 Carpenter.

24 Niehaus family interview.

25 Author interview with Shannon Drayer, March 11, 2024.

26 Author interview with Gary Hill, March 11, 2024.

27 Rizzs interview.

28 Author interview with Angie Mentink, June 11, 2024.

29 Rizzs interview.

30 https://www.baseball-reference.com/awards/hof.shtml. (This chart was used to count the number of Hall of Famers who played against the Seattle Mariners during the seasons Dave Niehaus was broadcasting.)

31 “Touch ’Em All: Denny Matthews and Dave Niehaus on Cooperstown, the Problem With Kids Today and Grown Men Crying.”