Holy Smokes, Thank You Rick

Goodbye, Rick

Last Sunday, September 27, Rick Rizzs called his final Mariners game. The M's beat the Angels 7-3 at T-Mobile Park, which feels about right. After 41 seasons in Seattle and 52 years in professional baseball, Rick got to sign off with a win.

I never met Rick. But I've been a fan of his since I was a kid, and that doesn't feel like a contradiction. When someone's voice is in your house a few nights a week for most of your life, you start to feel like you know them.

Growing up, Rick was part of Mariners baseball whether I was watching or listening. For years he worked both the TV and radio broadcasts, before moving to radio full time. Either way, if the Mariners were on, there was a good chance Rick was the one telling me what was happening.

I loved listening to him on the radio most. Radio is where a broadcaster really earns it. There's no picture to fall back on, so the voice has to carry everything: the count, the runners, the tension, the crowd. Rick made you see it.

Holy smokes

Every great broadcaster has a call you can hear in your head, and Rick had a few. "Goodbye, baseball!" on a home run. And my favorite, "Holy smokes!" Nobody else could say it the way he did. When you heard it, you knew something big just happened, and you knew he was as excited about it as you were.

What I always appreciated was how inspirational his calls felt. Rick never sounded like he was going through the motions. Even in a rough stretch, he found something to be hopeful about. That held true right to the end. This season was one of the more disappointing ones in recent memory, and the Mariners were eliminated from the playoffs the Thursday before his farewell weekend. Rick stayed encouraging anyway. That's just who he was in the booth.

He loved this team, and it showed

You could hear how much Rick loved the Mariners in the way he called games. A big hit didn't just get described, it got celebrated. A tough loss didn't get buried, he'd find the bright spot and point you toward tomorrow. That's not something you can fake for 41 seasons.

His career backs it up. Rick joined the Mariners in 1983 alongside the late Dave Niehaus. In 1992 he left to become the lead voice of the Detroit Tigers, replacing Ernie Harwell, which is about as big a job as there is in baseball broadcasting. Three seasons later, he came back to Seattle and stayed for the next 31 years. That tells you where his heart was.

The other thing I've noticed over the years: I have never heard a bad word about Rick. Not one. Every story is about how kind he is, how much he loves baseball, and how he treats everyone the same, from players to fans calling in. His Rick's Locker program has given new gloves and bats to kids who need them. When the team set up a "Holy Smokes" hotline for fans to leave farewell messages, listening to them brought him to tears. That's the guy everyone describes.

A Mariners Hall of Famer

I love that the Mariners are putting Rick in the team's Hall of Fame. John Stanton announced it on August 8 during the 50th Season Celebration at T-Mobile Park, and Rick got emotional on the field. He'll be inducted in 2027 as the 12th member.

The best part is the company he'll keep. Rick and Dave Niehaus will be the only two members of the Mariners Hall of Fame who never wore a uniform. Partners in the booth for 25 years, together again on the wall. It's hard to think of a better ending than that.

Thank you, Rick

Next season is going to sound different. Opening Day will come, the Mariners will take the field, and for the first time in a long time, Rick won't be the one calling it. That's going to take some getting used to.

But the good news is Rick isn't going far, and the calls aren't going anywhere either. They're stuck in the heads of a few generations of Mariners fans, mine included.

So thank you, Rick. For the calls, the optimism, and for loving this team out loud for 41 seasons. Holy smokes, what a run.