Fifteen years ago today, the voice of summer fell silent.
Ernie Harwell, the legendary broadcaster who spent more than four decades painting baseball masterpieces with his words, passed away on May 4, 2010, at the age of 92. But even all these years later, his presence is still felt across Detroit — and across the sport.
If you ever heard him call a game, you already know: Ernie didn’t just broadcast baseball. He brought it to life.
A Voice That Was Baseball
Ernie Harwell wasn’t just the soundtrack of Detroit Tigers baseball — he was the soul of it. From his signature phrases like “That one is long gone!” to his poetic tributes to the game, Ernie’s voice was a comfort to generations of fans.
Whether you were a kid sneaking a transistor radio under your pillow, or a parent passing down the game to your children, chances are you did it with Ernie’s voice nearby.
He called Tigers games from 1960 to 1991, then again from 1993 to 2002. But even when he wasn’t behind the mic, his legacy never left the ballpark.
More Than a Broadcaster
Yes, Ernie Harwell was a Hall of Fame broadcaster. But he was also a storyteller, a gentleman, and a spiritual man who saw baseball not as a job — but as a blessing.
He famously began each spring training with a reading from the Song of Solomon:
“For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth. The time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.”
It never got old. It never felt corny. With Ernie, it was poetry in motion.
Why His Legacy Still Matters
In an era of hot takes and fast clips, Harwell stood for something slower, more thoughtful — more human. He reminded us that baseball was a game, yes, but also a story. One that unfolded inning by inning, pitch by pitch, voice by voice.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t showboat. He just welcomed you in — like a friend on the porch — and told you about a ballgame.
The Bottom Line
Fifteen years after his passing, Ernie Harwell still defines what it means to love the game. He may be gone from the broadcast booth, but he’ll always be part of the Tigers, part of Detroit, and part of baseball.
So today, we tip our caps and say: Thank you, Ernie. We still hear you.
