|
Admiral
Join Date: Nov 2001
Location: East coast
Posts: 6,955
|
Amazing Sports Broadcaster
Quote:
Blindness no barrier for Rays radio broadcaster Oliu
ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — Enrique Oliu rocks in his chair in the Tampa Bay Rays broadcast booth, his head cocked in the air, not pointed toward the diamond below. He describes what he just heard, not what he just saw.
"That sound from the fans when Carlos Pena struck out sounded like they were disgusted, so I said on the air, 'Carlos swung at a bad pitch,' " Oliu said. "You don't hear that reaction very much from fans when he is up."
Sure enough, on a two-strike changeup, trying to protect himself at the plate, Pena swung at a pitch that was up and away.
It was his mind's eye that offered the perfect view for Oliu. It is that way on every pitch, because he is blind.
Oliu, the 47-year old analyst for the Rays' Spanish-language radio broadcasts, has been rocking in that chair since 1998 and uses memory, pregame interviews with players, his alliance with play-by-play man Ricardo Taveras, and a passion for the game to make up for what should be an obvious obstacle.
He can't see the field, but he handles the calls in the booth as routinely as a second baseman does a two-hopper.
"When I first got here and heard about the team's blind announcer, I am thinking, like a lot of people, 'This is a joke, right?' " Rays catcher Dioner Navarro said. "And then you meet him and you see his ability to recall statistics and events and talk the game. I told him the names of my wife and kids one time, and he remembered them.
"I know he should have his limitations, but it is hard to know what they might be."
Oliu has been blind since his birth in Nicaragua and can only make out bright lights, yet he has a feel for the game that makes him effective. His wife, Debra Perry, sits to his right and will lean in and whisper a statistic between pitches or at-bats, but the rest is up to Oliu.
"My parents told me I had to outwork people because I was behind the 8 ball," Oliu said. "They said it wasn't good enough to be just as good.
"I've always felt that way. This is something my parents and teachers at the blind school said. You had to be better."
Oliu will miss some plays, and occasionally a listener will call the next day's talk show and beat him up. Oliu will not come back and say, "I'm blind, give me a break."
"My father said, 'I don't want to hear any excuses,' and I don't give any," Oliu said. "I miss some calls. My friends in the business tell me they miss some calls, too."
Making conversation
Oliu has friends in the broadcast business and in the Rays clubhouse, as well as in the dining hall, concourses, and everywhere, it seems. It is how he does his job and plows through a barrier, that endears him to others. He is asking and listening, then telling.
"If I go to a meal with Enrique, I will know the name of the valet, I will know the name of the hat-check person, the captain, and not only will I know them, I will know their taste in music and where they are from and where they went to school," said Marc Haze, an engineer on the broadcasts.
"I've been blessed that people want to talk to me," Oliu said. "You don't have a chance to see people, so you talk to them. My parents told me, 'You couldn't hide because you are blind.' "
The players help Oliu the most because of their insight.
When left-hander David Price first pitched for the Rays and Oliu heard broadcasters remark about Price's unusual delivery, Oliu had trouble envisioning the motion, so he went to manager Joe Maddon.
"I asked Joe to walk me through it, so he tilted my arm, tilted my body, and used my arm to show it," Oliu said. "I got a picture of Price's delivery. I could see how hard the ball was to pick up.
"I'll exchange pictures with Joe, those things that I think I am seeing, and ask him what he is seeing. We will see the same things: Somebody's bat is too slow; somebody is chasing pitches."
In some circles, Oliu might be viewed as something to marvel over and not respect. The Rays, however, bow to their Latin linguist.
"We think he is amazing," Navarro said. "He can start a conversation out of nothing."
Oliu offers commentary on the action after the play-by-play call of Taveras, who first broadcast Rays games in 2000. Taveras has a booming, and still graceful, voice that fills the booth, and Oliu follows with insight, which he has drawn from conversations in the clubhouse with players before the game, and newspaper information and statistics recited to him by his wife.
For somebody who is blind, Oliu uses the word "see" frequently, and he will often exclaim in an excited voice, "Did you see that?"
"He and I are an automatic combination, because all the time he has something correct to say after I say something," Taveras said. "I don't want to change this guy at all."
Making most of audition
Oliu got his first break in 1989 when the "Ripley's Believe it or Not" television show heard about him doing sports commentary for a local station. They arranged for him to call one inning of a game of the Jacksonville Expos, a Class AA team.
Ripley's was there for a carnival act. Oliu was there for a shot at a dream.
He was so adept that instead of one inning, the club allowed him to work three. When it was over, he had a demo tape and held tight to it while he did various broadcasts around Tampa.
In 1998, Oliu heard about the opening in the Rays' Latin booth and approached his friend, Orestes Destrade, who was then the Rays' director of community affairs. Destrade, now an analyst with ESPN who like Oliu attended Florida College, approached Rick Vaughn, the club's vice president of communications. They decided to let Oliu audition in an exhibition game just before the start of the season.
"He was amazing," Vaughn said. "His knowledge of the game, and how he handled himself, the poise, just won people over."
When the team is on the road, Oliu and Taveras will call the game off TV from the booth at Tropicana Field. Oliu has a full-time job in the public defender's office as a liaison between the jail and the attorney.
Rays fans can be amazed by the voice in the box. Victor Perez, a season ticketholder, said he and his family will watch some games at home and turn down the English broadcast on TV and turn up the sound on the Spanish radio broadcast.
"When I first heard him, I never knew he couldn't see, then I am 'wow'," said Perez, who is retired and lives in St. Petersburg. "He is incredible. Very good. My family, my friends, we don't know how he does it. Incredible."
|
http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseb...adcaster_N.htm
This guy is seriously amazing. I wish I could understand Spanish so I could listen to one of the games he calls. People like this are a huge inspiration to others. |
06-16-2009, 12:10 PM
Threaded Mode