10 Oct 10th-Oct 16th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | ‘Meant to do what he did’ The NBA grind is taxing, with clubs hopscotching East Coast cities for a week or more. McCoy played sick on many occa- sions. Once before a game, an ill MCoy astonished then-radio partner Eddie Johnson by warning him he might have to take over play-by-play duties. Instead, McCoy delivered a Michael Jordan flu game. “This dude not only called the game, but he did it like it was the seventh game of the NBA Finals,” said Johnson, a former player who has been a Suns broadcast analyst since 2003. “It truly blew me away. It meant that much to him. For the life of me, I don’t know how he did it that long.” Johnson is one of the most prolific scorers in NBA history with 19,202 career points. But like most of McCoy’s analysts over 51 years, he was making a career tran- sition to McCoy’s area of expertise. McCoy became a sideline conductor, pointing at partners to cue them to talk in a rhythmic duet. Perhaps it was because McCoy also was an accomplished jazz pianist who commandeered hotel bar pianos, held court on the keys at the former Gaslight Inn near his Glendale home and donated his Suns Ring of Honor piano gift to The Nash jazz club in downtown Phoenix. But although he played professional gigs after college, he kept a piece of that Williams High School point guard in his work. Over the years, the Valley treasure proved more adaptable to the game’s changes than a post-up center. “I think about how he approached the game, and he was like a professional athlete, so to speak,” Johnson said. “It was amazing how he was able to persevere, especially at a later age. To do what he did, I’m so appreciative that he performed like he did. He was meant to do what he did.” McCoy’s joy for his job remained when the headset was off. He was a loyal friend to those who knew him well and a kind person to those who only felt as though they did. Fans flocked nightly for a photo, an autograph or a word about how much he meant to them. In turn, he thanked them in his 2023 farewell for allowing him to bring the story of the Suns to their lives. Each fan left an encounter with a genuine greeting, as if it was McCoy’s first compliment. “The Real McCoy,” as his autobiography was titled, genuinely shared their passion and frustration for a franchise that sized him for its Ring of Honor rather than a championship ring. “He was like the rest of us,” Leander said. “We are dying for a ring. But to me, it wasn’t about winning a ring for Al. It was the purpose, the goal and the interaction with fellow broadcasters, coaches, players and fans.” In 2007, that purpose earned McCoy his field’s greatest honor, the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame’s Curt Gowdy Media Award. When he lost his wife in 2012, his passion for career kept him going. At his final public appearance in May, McCoy helped introduce new Suns coach Mike Budenholzer, who grew up listening to McCoy with his family in their Holbrook living room. Budenholzer bowed to him. The legend lives on McCoy’s etched lexicon has outlived him, used recently in posthumous tribute calls by Arizona Cardinals announcer Dave Pasch and Arizona Diamondbacks announcer Chris Garagiola. Fans frequently demand that McCoy be remem- bered with a statue in front of Footprint Center, just as Hearn was honored in Los Angeles. Such immortality would be only fitting. McCoy held the key to Phoenix, unlocking joy and nostalgia with how his calls brought a comforting distraction or a welcomed update. He inspired driveway hoop mimics, connected generations over mutual memories and groused about offi- cials for fans in absentia. Just like fans were, McCoy was crushed when Chicago Bulls guard John Paxson sank a game-winning shot to down the Suns in the 1993 Finals. He was outraged when San Antonio’s Robert Horry deliv- ered a history-shifting hip check into Steve Nash, who called McCoy “the teammate that never wore a jersey.” McCoy’s calls elevated Charles Barkley’s 45-point, 24-rebound playoff performance and Devin Booker’s 70-point game. But it’s his call of Gar Heard’s “The Shot Heard Round the World” in the 1976 Finals that lives on in legend. Near midnight that night, just as Heard lofted a buzzer-beater to send Game 5 to overtime, a drunk Celtics fan passed out in McCoy’s lap. In just his fourth year on the headset, the future icon was unfazed. “Here’s the jump shot … good!” McCoy said, shoving the fan off him to complete a call that now adorns a pillar at the Al McCoy Media Center. “It’s good! It counts! Gar Heard ties it! I want to tell you some- thing. Somebody up there is on our side.” Now, someone truly is. Al McCoy interviews former NBA Commissioner David Stern. (Courtesy of Phoenix Suns) Phoenix Suns legend Steve Nash called Al McCoy “the teammate that never wore a jersey.”(Courtesy of Phoenix Suns) Zing Go the Heartstrings from p8
