A Blue Check Ode to Vin Scully: A MEME

A Blue Check Ode to Vin Scully: A MEME

By Jonathan Christopher St. John

Pronouns: Him/Her

Vin Scully, legendary voice of the Dodgers has died.

Racial Justice, Equity, and Diversity for all must be the epitaph by which we honor this giant, and every fallen figure of our times, or so we must in the absence of their words at now, these desperate few hours before the world is destroyed by fiery Climate Change, or a Pandemic caused by Pangolin Soup in some Exotic City.

You know Vin’s mighty achievements, but did you really know… 

He was against Western Civilization and the Patriarchy.  I know it, he need never have said a word, but I knew it in the way he called each play. He was disgusted by Gadsden Flags, the Constitution, the Runaway Supreme Court, and Monster Trucks.  We were kindred spirits that way.

He was disgusted by the Insurrection on January 6.  I could tell by his quiet resigned silences on the subject, and I felt them pulsing across the neon-lit darknesses of LA in the dark aftermath of the worst day ever.  It was a dark stain on our country and he bore it personally.  Proof that this is not so, has never surfaced.

Transgenderism, never ever was there ever a better champion for Men playing Women’s Field Hockey so bold as Vin in ways you never knew in this our Finest Hour of making the world a MUCH Better, more Prideful place.  He took no official position, but he and I shared a scared spirit smoke-lodge heart, I assure you.  I can only imagine Vin, as he surely would have allowed me to call him had we ever met, still calling the plays of the sportsball championship game I have loved with a passion since my earliest days when mother enrolled me in Mrs. Lameaux’s Ballet school, a life changing experience, as Drag Queens and Drag Kids gyrated near the dugouts in the early evenings, shaking their twerking butts at a sleepy, yet pleased Lasorda.

On the subject of Trump… Oh how he hated the man with a passionate shaking rage, biting his lip with his tooth as he ate cucumber and hummus gluten-free pitas, something we both have in common, and showed his naked contempt by never volunteering a word on the subject of the dastard villain.  I am sorry to have even had to have written the name of that Tyrant within this, my Requiescat in Pace to Vin, but I have, and so there are no apologies, right Kurt?  Kurt Cobain, or Kurt as I would have called him, hated Trump too that’s why he killed himself.  True story.

But I digress.

Yes, I could talk all about Vin and my many halcyon memories of games he called on Sunday afternoons, the lazy sun going down and shining bright into Left Center.  Farmer John hotdogs and the Gibson’s homerun.  Sure.  Those things were about Vin and mileposts over the course of his grand life.  But, as Marcus Anthony said, “I come not to bury Vin, but to reminded you, using him as an example and don’t you dare say prop, about things he stood for, I am absolutely certain of this, that I stand for too.”

Like some Modern Day Colossus of Rhoades astride the white, racist, capitalist, rapist culture we must bring down, Vin Scully saw, though he never said so, what we who are awake now, so widely see.  And so, any words regarding his death, his life, his loves, the stats, the scores, the calls of the games, those will need to stand aside as I tell you, with absolute certainty through the haze, with a nostalgia for what we have taken from the deplorables and the maggots, what he really stood for, as I see it. 

Also… he was gay