ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian is someone that is easy to listen to.
During the recent Baseball Hall of Fame Induction Weekend, a couple of hours before the ceremonies were to take place at the Clark Sports Center grounds, I was walking along Church Street in the Village of Cooperstown, New York. Anyone who has ever been in “The Home of Baseball” will tell you—there's no hiding in the streets.
As my friend George Napolitano and I were stationed where the media shuttle was to pick us up and take us for the mile ride to the inductions, we came to a stop at the gates of Cooper Park.
We see a man removing orange road cones blocking the entrance or exit from the gate guarding the National Baseball Library and the back entrance to the Hall of Fame. Immediately, we recognize it’s Kurkjian clearing the road. Tim takes control of his travels with his wife, Kathy Kurkjian, at the wheel of their car. The longtime baseball analyst needs to be at the induction site.
I offer to assist the staple of ESPN’s Baseball Tonight in clearing the road and hastening his departure. The Maryland native, who only two years back was the recipient of the BBWAA (Baseball Writers’ Association of America) Career Excellence Award, given annually for contributions to baseball writing, literally cleared the road to reach his assignment.
As I watched the Kurkjians drive off into Cooperstown’s scenic country setting, I was reminded of just what an incredibly talented, sweet, and friendly pro the writer on ESPN.com since the late 1990s really is.
My first exposure to Kurkjian was around the time he joined ESPN. From 1982-2001, when ESPN held the broadcast rights to air the Cooperstown ceremonies (live and taped-delayed), I was part of the crew; think, and “all other duties” as my main contributions.
Nevertheless, being in and around Kurkjian’s shadows for a couple of broadcasts told me all that I needed to know about his quality as a human being. Off-camera, away from public view, given his public exposure, Kurkjian is always a prime example of “what you see is what you get.”
Back to Church Street.
As Kurkjian battled the heat and glaring sun and hustled to reach his work assignment in a timely manner, I thought more about how far he had come professionally as a reporter.
This past week, I gave Kurkjian a call, and I wanted to know more about how his past quarter-century-plus coverage of MLB at ESPN has gone. How could he still be the same unassuming gentleman at sport’s most recognizable address?
After all, he was a print reporter who then joined a TV network without any experience as a TV pro. The man started his career using a typewriter (kids, ask your parents), and suddenly, Kurkjian is watched by millions of viewers who look to him for baseball clarity—all in an instant.
I wanted to hear from him when, in the summer of 2022, he received the most prestigious baseball writers’ award; how did it feel to be the story instead of writing about the story?
“I was never more scared to death of anything in my life,” recalls Kurkjian when receiving his award at the Alice Busch Opera Theater on the banks of Lake Otsego in Cooperstown. “When I walked up to that podium, the speech I was to give was so important to me. I knew that if I blow this, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Being the seasoned pro he is on air, Kurkjian nailed his heartwarming speech during the most important weekend of his professional career.
What followed the speech would be the proverbial “cherry on top” of Kurkjian’s weekend.
Once returning to Hall of Fame Central, the Otesaga Resort Hotel in Cooperstown, a chance meeting with a former player who put Kurkjian’s career in proper perspective.
“After I spoke, I’m back at the hotel, and Johnny Bench, the hall of famer, and the greatest catcher of all time, took me out onto the veranda. It was just the two of us. He (Bench) wanted me to sit next to him.”
This unfolding, very private moment for Kurkjian is one that he says he rarely shares. His voice begins to sound a bit unsteady as the story continues over the phone. Bench instructed Kurkjian to stare out at the lake, and to say nothing for a minute.
“Johnny then told me to think of where I’m at, how I got here, and how many people helped me get here; to Cooperstown. I did what Johnny asked, and I teared up again.”
Kurkjian tells in utter amazement, even now, two years after their meeting, that Johnny Bench thought it was important enough to take him aside and show him what he needed to remember about that weekend.
When Kurkjian’s writing career started at The Washington Star newspaper, his stories were filed by typewriter. This was when his start in the newspaper business began. It wasn’t until 1981 that Kurkjian’s desk received a “real computer” on which he could edit.
“Being able to electronically edit was one of the highlights of my professional career. That was a huge jump forward in our business,” chuckles Kurkjian.
With my time limited with Kurkjian, I wanted to know how his transition from writing to the TV world went. It is interesting to learn why and how the decision was made to trade mediums.
There was an opening at ESPN. As Kurkjian tells his career change, leaving print for TV, they needed somebody to help Peter Gammons. At the time, Gammons was writing and working feverishly every day.
“I had an opportunity to go cover baseball with my mentor (Gammons), who taught us all how to do the beat. I thought, I’m going to try this.”
When Kurkjian joined ESPN, he was on staff at Sports Illustrated. He remembers that his career at SI started to take a downward turn at that time. He believes that the magazine didn’t appreciate his reporting on baseball as much as it used to.
“I knew it was time to make a change," he told me. "Back then, nobody left Sports Illustrated. My choice was correct. I’ve been with ESPN now for 27 years.”
Once joining ESPN, Kurkjian naively thought that the sports channel would teach him how to do TV. ESPN’s response was direct: "There’s no time.”
Armed with some TV experience with CNNSI from covering the 1997 MLB postseason for Kurkjian at ESPN, it was go time. He credits his beat writer days at newspapers covering the Texas Rangers and Baltimore Orioles to knowing how to present the news on ESPN. But, on TV, Kurkjian presented the news differently. His stories had to be shorter and quicker.
If Kurkjian didn’t live in Maryland, surely there is a home in mythical Mayberry with his name on it. What you see is what you get when in the presence of the quintessential baseball gentleman—complete kindness.
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