Espn Turns Off Mikes, Lets Pictures Do Talking

For Cal Ripken Jr., it was 2,131 consecutive games. For Chris Berman, it was 19 consecutive minutes of silence. Both were records.

ESPN televised Ripken’s momentous game Wednesday night from Baltimore, and fittingly, for a game that showcased so much of what is goods about baseball, ESPN showed us so much of what is good about television. It was big-event television at its very best.

It was clear from the outset that producer Phil Orlins had decided to let ESPN’s cameras do the talking.

President Clinton, not expected until the sixth inning, gave Berman and analyst Buck Martinez a bit of a start, showing up in the booth in the third.

“I’m disappointed I didn’t get some kind of nickname out of you,” Clinton told Berman, who was sputtering.

“I had the yips,” Berman admitted. “I missed a 3-footer.”

Then, as California shortstop Damion Easley made the third out in the top of the fifth inning and the game became official, Berman said: “Let it be said that No. 8, Cal Ripken Jr., has reached the unreachable star.”

That was 1 hour, 46 minutes into the game. It was another 19 minutes before another word was spoken, and Berman finally said, “A moment that will live for 2,131 years. We will never see anything like this again.”

Those 19 minutes were filled with some of the most compelling, wonderfully eloquent pictures television can provide. An overhead shot from the blimp caught the burst of a thousand flash bulbs sparkling in the stadium, and Ripken’s teammates from the Orioles bullpen ran across the field. And no one spoke.

The last number in 2,131 was unfurled on the side of a warehouse beyond the right-field fence.

After fans chanted “We want Cal!” Ripken began a trot around the perimeter of the stadium that will go down in baseball history as one of its most memorable moments. Ripken high-fived the bullpen, stopped and ran back to shake hands with a fan over the outfield fence. Not a word came from the booth.

He threw a hat back into the seats, shook more hands, hugged a woman in the front row, chatted with umpires. It looked like he was apologizing for the long delay.

Ripken went into the Angels’ dugout. He shook hands with Rod Carew and with Jim Abbott. Still, no word.

The camera cut to a shot of Joe DiMaggio and Frank Robinson, then caught Ripken wiping the sweat off his head and neck. Another teammate fanned him. Silence.

A camera then caught Ripken mouthing the words: “No more. No more. I can’t do it,” as fans continued to call for him. Finally, 2 hours, 5 minutes into the broadcast, Berman spoke again. Nearly 20 minutes had gone by with nary a word. In TV, that’s an eternity. It’s nearly the baseball equivalent of 2,131 games.