Al McCoy made Suns fans feel lucky to have him

Al McCoy was born in 1933. Same as FM radio. 

There was very little static with either.

The dearly departed McCoy was more than a golden-toned Valley treasure. He was an icon from another era. He was a local legend who stayed local, the longest tenured team broadcaster in NBA history (51 years). 

Vin Scully served 67 years with the Dodgers, but he had a strong national presence, broadcasting national baseball games along with football and golf. Harry Caray was a Chicago legend, but that relationship was a bit complicated, as he served both the White Sox and rival Cubs along with a 25-year stint with the St. Louis Cardinals. 

McCoy wasn’t quite as smooth as Scully, who could go entire broadcasts without fumbling a single word. He wasn’t the fun uncle swilling beer with customers in the bleachers, as Caray famously did.    

But he was graceful and grandfatherly and kind. (Unless you were an NBA referee). 

Best of all, he was ours.

McCoy died Saturday at age 91, and those who care about Phoenix Suns basketball went through their own cycles of grief. I took solace that McCoy had been frequently honored in recent years.  He knew what he meant to all of us.   

Behind the scenes and off the record, McCoy could be sharp-tongued and hilarious. Behind the microphone, he was class and polish personified. He became a trusted, comforting voice in the community. No one questioned his sincerity or his love of the Suns.  

He was also an accomplished pianist, and occasionally played for shut-ins and senior citizens in nursing homes. He was the steadying soundtrack for generations of fans in Arizona, but he was far more than just a voice. 

I also became angry that the Suns never won a championship in his 51 years on the job, especially when he grew so fond of Devin Booker. I resented the little pings of disrespect he felt late in his career, like broadcasting from the rafters or dealing with certain pompous head coaches. And then I came to a full stop. 

There was no void in McCoy’s life. There was nothing missing. He loved what he did. He was loved for what he did. How could a person be richer? Who would dare ask for anything more? 

Broadcasters like McCoy rarely exist in today’s sporting culture that is steeped in brand awareness and protecting the franchise. Most teams don’t like broadcasters who become larger than life, thereby gaining the autonomy to speak honestly at all costs, telling whatever hard truths are necessary. And the dilution/fragmentation of media has made it nearly impossible for local guys to become champions of the people, a mouthpiece for the masses. 

Not McCoy. He became bigger than sunsets and salsa in Arizona. He could’ve run for public office. And unlike many aging broadcasters, he never lost his fastball, broadcasting a fast-paced sport with great fluency until the very end. 

We’ll miss him because we loved him. Because we were the lucky ones.  

Reach Bickley at dbickley@arizonasports.com. Listen to Bickley & Marotta weekdays from 6–10 a.m. on Arizona Sports 98.7 FM.

Follow @danbickley