The smell of the grass. The sound of a ball meeting the bat. The leather of the mitt. Listening to Bill King call an A's game was almost as good as being there. My husband and his brothers grew up on Bill King, I learned to love the game with his help, and my boys have already logged oodles of hours in their little upstairs bedroom, transported to a ball field where the A's were hard at work. This last Tuesday, Bill King died, and his voice was silenced. We will miss him.
An article about King at Inside Bay Area
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