Kenny Albert
One question I keep coming back to is whether we remember baseball games or the places where they happened. Kenny Albert has called nearly every sport imaginable, in nearly every stadium you can think of, yet when I asked him about baseball, he didn't start with statistics or championships. He started with walking into Yankee Stadium as an eight-year-old. He remembered fans crying at Memorial Stadium, the magic of Camden Yards, and the familiar faces that welcome you back year after year. Listening to Kenny reminded me that baseball isn't just played in ballparks. Somehow, over time, the ballparks become part of us.
Kenny, you've called just about every sport imaginable. What is it about baseball that makes it special to you as a broadcaster?
One of the things I've always loved most about baseball is that every ballpark has its own personality. They're all different, and I've been fortunate enough to work in many of the great old parks that are no longer standing. When I think back over my career, I think about calling games at Fenway Park, Wrigley Field, both Yankee Stadiums, Tiger Stadium, Memorial Stadium, and so many others. Every one of them had its own character, and every trip felt different because the setting was different.
As broadcasters we probably judge ballparks a little differently than fans do. I immediately notice where the broadcast booth sits and whether you're close to the field or tucked high into the upper deck. But beyond that, there's something about being outside on a summer evening—the smell of hot dogs, peanuts, and popcorn, the sounds of the crowd, and the pace of baseball itself—that no other sport can really duplicate. Baseball gives you time to soak it all in. I once called a 20-inning game in St. Louis that lasted nearly seven hours, and while most people remember the length of the game, I remember simply having the privilege of spending seven uninterrupted hours inside a baseball stadium.
You were at both the last game at Memorial Stadium and the first game at Camden Yards. What do you remember about those moments?
Those two experiences couldn't have been more different, but together they tell an incredible story about baseball.
At Memorial Stadium, you immediately sensed how much the place meant to people. I had just moved to Baltimore and was still young in my career, but it didn't take long to realize that many of the fans had been sitting in the same sections with the same people for years. They weren't just fellow ticket holders—they were extended family.
At that final game, people were crying. They weren't crying because they were losing a building. They were mourning decades of memories that had happened inside it. You could genuinely feel that emotion sitting in the stands.
Then Camden Yards opened, and somehow it immediately felt timeless. From the first day, people embraced it. Thirty-plus years later it still feels fresh every time I walk through the gates. That's an incredibly difficult thing to accomplish.
You mentioned your first visit to Yankee Stadium as a kid. Tell me that story.
I'll never forget it.
I was about eight years old, and my parents never told me where we were going. We were driving through New York, and suddenly I started seeing signs for Yankee Stadium on the Cross Bronx Expressway. I realized where we were headed, and I can still remember the excitement building as we got closer.
What sticks with me most wasn't even seeing the field itself. It was walking through the old concourse beneath the grandstand. You'd pass the concession stands, hear the sounds getting louder, and then suddenly you'd step through the opening and the entire ballpark would appear in front of you.
For an eight-year-old baseball fan, that moment felt magical. It's still one of my strongest baseball memories.
Why do you think Camden Yards has remained one of baseball's great ballparks for more than thirty years?
It's hard to point to just one thing. The warehouse certainly makes it unique, and immediately distinguishes it from every other stadium. But I also think it's the way the park has been cared for over the years. It still feels special every time you enter it.
The Orioles have experienced tremendous highs and difficult rebuilding years since it opened, but none of that has diminished the feeling you get when you walk through those gates. Every visit still feels like an event.
Is baseball different from the other sports you broadcast?
Very much so.
The biggest difference is the time. In football, hockey, and basketball, the action rarely stops. Baseball gives you room to breathe. There's time between pitches, between batters, and between innings. That creates opportunities for stories.
Some of the greatest analysts I've worked with—Tim McCarver, Jeff Torborg, Kevin Kennedy, Steve Lyons—were incredible storytellers. Baseball allows those stories to become part of the broadcast in a way that simply isn't possible in the other sports.
That's part of baseball's charm.
You've been to virtually every Major League ballpark, past and present. What makes them so special?
Their individuality. No two are alike. Whether it's the Green Monster at Fenway, the ivy at Wrigley, Tal's Hill in Houston, the waterfront in San Francisco, or simply the dimensions of the field, every park has something that belongs only to that city.
Then you add the local food, the people, the clubhouse attendants, the security guards, and the familiar faces you see year after year. You begin realizing that every ballpark has its own community. You may not visit a city for five years, but when you come back, the same people are there welcoming you. That's one of my favorite parts of traveling baseball.
You and I have been fortunate enough to make a living traveling to ballparks. What do you hope fans experience when they start visiting them themselves?
I hope they appreciate how unique every stop really is. I've probably been to fifty or sixty Major League ballparks when you count all the old stadiums that are gone now. Every one offered something memorable.
Some gave you unforgettable views. Some gave you unforgettable food. Some gave you unforgettable games. But every one gave you unforgettable people.
That's ultimately what stays with you.
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More from Kenny Albert
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.