You could run into Phil at any number of New Jersey malls, and if he met you once he never forgot your face or name. As gracious a man as possible, there was never a bad time to stop and say hi or give an autograph. That's one of the reasons he was always late. And heaven forbid you stopped him on the street to talk baseball. His family gave him pagers back when no one had pagers simply to constantly remind him that he was overdue at work or play and since he was so wonderful a man no one ever cared when the Scooter would show up behind schedule because they knew damned well he was taking the time to make a fan feel welcome. He'd greet you like an old acquaintance and those who knew him best would laugh and say that Phil could sit down with Jack the Ripper and find something to talk about.
I forget the year but it must have been the early 90's. Was at Yankee Stadium for a 4th of July game and some Einstein had figured it a good idea to place cannons in the outfield and salute the holiday with a mighty blast or two. We had good seats that day, and from just behind home plate could hear Phil talking to one of the Yankee staff about the wisdom of shooting off those big guns. Sure enough, someone over-did the charge and one of the cannons blew down a temporary outfield wall section, and Phil went into hysterics shouting, "Holy shit! They're blowing down the fucking walls!"
His mic was on. Attached to the public address system. The Stadium went berserk with laughter. His signature "Holy Cow!" came from trying to stop using cuss words back when they were showing him the ropes on how to be an announcer but Phil was Phil and in the early days of TV there was many a red face when he'd forget himself and interject a real winner into the broadcast.
Just the other day I was wondering how he was getting along. There are lots of folks who feel they've lost a close friend this day.
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