I Got To Hear Him Call Games

It's hard to talk about Sam Rosen without talking about Henrik Lundqvist.

At least for me.

I find the parallels between the two astounding, and the handoff of duties at the end of each of their remarkable careers might be so similar, it's eerie. The two men are masters of their crafts—two of the best to ever do it. The two men did it for only one team, with Original Six royalty running through their veins from start to finish. They did it at the World's Most Famous Arena, in the biggest city, on the biggest stage. They did it meticulously well, and more importantly, meticulously well every damn time.

Year after year. Season after season. And, for Sam, generation after generation.

When I think about Sam Rosen I think about Henrik Lundqivst, but it goes further than that.

I was born in 1988, and Sam was already well into his career as the play-by-play voice of the New York Rangers. I turned 36 this year and have never once known another voice behind the mic, save for a game here to there that he'd miss, often when broadcasting the NFL on Sundays.

It's Sam. It's always been Sam. Next year it will not be Sam, and I'm not really sure how I feel about that yet. In one way, the common assumption that the role is going to Kenny Albert (who is also incredible, and already familiar) feels a lot like going from Lundqvist to Igor Shesterkin. In the same way I think many people don't realize how lucky they are that was the case between the pipes, I don't think many of the youngsters out there realize that would be the case behind the mic, as well. When all you've ever known is greatness, you can easily come to take it for granted.

When I wrote my farewell piece to Henrik Lundqvist I talked about how we tend to overlook how consistently great players can be somewhat lost in the shuffle. I said the following:

Flashes in the pan like Petr Prucha are remembered because of how violently they shine. It’s like seeing a shooting star. It’s memorable because it’s moving, you saw it, and then it’s gone. Lundqvist was the North Star. Bright and steady, ever burning. You don’t look for the North Star all that much when you look at the night sky. But sometimes you see it and remember how bright it is.

Sam was that North Star. Sam was the ever burning light, the voice over the airwaves you knew would be there, win or lose.

That he was so universally loved—even by those who are not fans of the New York Rangers (lucky bastards)—should tell you all you need to know. The same way Henrik Lundqvist demanded respect from his work between the pipes, Sam demanded it on the microphone. And that never really waivered.

We talk often about how the key to generational goaltending is consistency. Flash in the pans are nice while you have them, and the history books are littered with examples of players who had an amazing season or two. But having someone who, night-in and night-out, gets the job done in an elite way for years is the benchmark.

Sam was that. He's always been that.

For whatever reason, I found it hard to get my creative juices flowing writing about Sam Rosen. I should have a pantheon of words to write about him and yet ... I do not. I'm not really sure why. It's not for a lack of love or admiration for him, as I feel like I've made my feelings about him clear. I really think it's because he's been the consistent thing in my life when it comes to the New York Rangers. He's the baseline. He's always there. There has been no other, so there is no real comprehension to what's about to happen—even though we always knew we'd close this book one day.

Much like the ground under my feet, or the air I breathe, I think I've just taken Sam for granted in the sense that I have an amazing thing that's in my life and it's literally been in place since before I was born. Small blips where Sam missed a game and the jarring "no Sam" on the call aside, I simply have accepted (in a great way) that he's there and it's not going to change.

Except now it is.

And I don't really know how to grapple with it aside from comparing him to the greatest player I think ever worse the jersey, and bracing myself for what's to come.

I think it's a damn shame the organization chose not to raise a banner in his honor, and it's also a damn shame that one of the two things Sam's iconic voice will be remembered for—"It's a power play goal!" and "This one will last a lifetime!"—speaks to the lack of success this team has had over it's history.

At the end of my Lundqvist piece I wrote that I would be able to tell my kids that I got to watch Henrik Lundqvist play. Later in life when they hear replays and ask who that voice is I will say a similar thing: I got to hear Sam Rosen call games.

Thank you for everything, Sam.

It has meant so much to me that I literally do not have the words to even say it properly.