8 Oct 10th-Oct 16th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | Zing Go the Heartstrings An ode to late Phoenix Suns broadcasting legend Al McCoy. BY PAUL CORO N o matter how or when a Phoenix Suns fan tuned in — from turning the AM radio dial to KTAR 620 after a movie at the Cine Capri Theatre in 1972 to opening a mobile app to check on the Suns after the Super Bowl in 2023 — the unmistakable voice talking to them through the speakers delivered as expected. A familiar friend’s booming baritone was always there, as sensational and consistent as our sunsets. All-Stars and fan favorites came and went from the Valley sports scene for decades, but no figure has been as widely beloved as Al McCoy. For 51 years, the “Voice of the Suns” forged a career with more breath and breadth than that of any play-by-play announcer in NBA history. McCoy died at age 91 on Sept. 21, six days before the anniversary of when “a farm boy from Iowa” first hit play on a Suns soundtrack for generations. “His peak lasted 51 years,” said Jon Bloom, a childhood Suns fan who succeeded McCoy in calling Suns games on the radio. “The voice never wavered. The most identifiable broadcasters are the ones you don’t need to see or hear more than a couple words, and you know who they are. That’s Al McCoy.” Oh, brother, is that ever true. Through multiple on-air partners, various arena vantage points and 385 Suns players, McCoy was an authentic icon. His words brushed a basketball picture that left nothing to the fans’ imagination. He joined their eyes with a television simul- cast until 2003 and remained their eyes on the radio until his final game in the 2023 playoffs. “That confidence, steadiness and accu- racy is everything you have to have in a broadcaster,” Tom Leander said. Leander began his Suns career as a ball boy in the mid-1970s, responsible for setting up McCoy’s courtside spot. He later became a Suns broadcast employee for 31 years, nine of which were spent following McCoy as the team’s television play-by-play announcer. “You throw in the creativity, the catch- phrases, his enthusiasm and that delivery, and he would always rise to the occasion,” Leander reminisced. “I never heard him blow a call. He was always ready for the moment and gave the perfect description. That’s why there are so many iconic calls on file. He nailed it every time.” ‘Shazam!’ McCoy stood only 5-foot-6 in an NBA human forest, but he was a hoops giant nonetheless. He began crafting his legacy while sitting on the fence posts of his childhood farm in Williams, Iowa, calling imaginary games to pigs and cattle. With no elec- tricity at home and armed only with a battery-powered radio, McCoy absorbed the staccato of boxing calls and the story- telling of baseball announcers such as Chicago Cubs radio voice Bert Wilson. His love affair with basketball may have seemed like fate. When he was 15 years old, McCoy attended his first NBA game in Waterloo, Iowa, between the Waterloo Hawks and Tri-Cities Blackhawks. While in college at Drake University, he took basketball coaching classes and met Chick Hearn, who later became the legendary voice of the Lakers. In 2016, McCoy passed Hearn for the title of the NBA’s longest- tenured play-by-play announcer. But when McCoy and his wife, Georgia, drove to Phoenix in 1958, he had baseball in mind. He’d been hired as the first voice of the Phoenix Giants, San Francisco’s relo- cated Triple-A club. The next 14 years were a grab bag of sports experiences. McCoy had two stints on the Giants and called six years of Arizona State football and basketball. He dabbled in Phoenix Madison Square Garden boxing and Phoenix Roadrunners hockey and worked as a rock radio disc jockey. His sped-up editing on a 1966 NBA preseason demo tape helped convince then- Suns general manager Jerry Colangelo to hand him the franchise headset in 1972, landing him the job of a literal lifetime. Before long, Colangelo regarded McCoy as the team’s best salesman, helping the fran- chise spur Phoenix’s transformation into a major market. An expanding fan base grew attached to McCoy’s vivacious voice repeating catchy calls. There was “Wham-bam-slam”; “Zing go the strings,” “Swisheroo for two” and “Twine time”; “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Put this one in the ol’ deep freeze.” With the advent of the three-point shot, he added his iconic “Shazam,” but only when the Suns sank a trey. McCoy narrated seasons to Suns supporters riding a never-ending franchise rollercoaster. He welcomed them at least 82 nights a year to a game they might not be able to afford to attend or could not watch with “wherever you are, whatever you’re doing.” Former Diamondbacks broadcaster Greg Schulte, revered in his own right for a 26-year run on the radio, said, “They got rid of the mold when Al came around.” Schulte spent 17 years with McCoy as his producer, engineer and halftime/postgame host, including two years as McCoy’s Suns analyst. The carpool buddies were Midwest transplants who became local legends and best friends with weekly talks and lovely memories. “When he got excited or there were big moments in ball games, Al would grab my right arm with his left hand,” Schulte recalled. “I think he wanted to make sure he stayed in his seat. He wanted to control himself. He took moments that could be grand and made them grand.” McCoy never stopped astonishing colleagues with the recall ability of a history professor, weaving anecdotes seamlessly into relatable live-game moments. His attention to detail was so precise that Leander sat at his boyhood bedroom desk listening to McCoy’s call, keeping statistics off the legend’s recounting. Bloom caught the final 16 years of McCoy’s career, serving as a Suns pregame and postgame host before sharing play-by- play duties with McCoy. Even in his 80s, McCoy set an impossible standard. His superpower was staying power, avoiding off-nights unlike the best of players. “It was downright flabbergasting and, in some cases, infuriating because most humans can’t be that consistent at some- thing,” Bloom said. “To do it at the rate he did and be as good as he was when he was calling it a career is just dumbfounding.” Al McCoy helmed Suns broadcasts for 51 years, making him the longest-tenured announcer in NBA history. (Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images) Al McCoy with Cotton Fitzsimmons in the 1990s. (Courtesy of Phoenix Suns) >> p 10 | NEWS | | NEWS |
