If it had been anyone but Mike Shannon ...
Well, no, let’s start that one over.
It could not have been anyone but Shannon.
How many times during his remarkable 83 years did the Mount Rushmore member of ºüÀêÊÓƵ sports personalities prove those words true?
One day, before a Cardinals spring training game a few years ago, it was on display during batting practice at Roger Dean Stadium.
March Madness action was nearing its peak. Shannon had realized he and one of the players out there shagging balls were neck and neck to win the camp’s annual NCAA Tournament pool. Shannon figured it was time to negotiate a deal to split the pot — right in the middle of batting practice.
Wearing his dark sunglasses and iconic windbreaker, walking with the urgency of a sunset stroller on the beach, Shannon hit the field with his back to the batters and one mission on his mind.
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No one stopped him. Stop Shannon? Good luck, big boy.
Somehow, no one hit him either. Balls screamed off bats around him, kicking up infield dirt and scorching outfield grass. He never looked back, never hesitated.
Whether it was the laws of physics The Moon Man defied, the divine intervention that delivered that day, or just some of that signature magic that always sparkled around him, Shannon reached his destination, had his talk, turned around and walked right back.
The deal?
It was done.
Shannon was a one-of-a-kind character, one who never was afraid to do things his own way — his only way.
His conviction to carry himself with the confidence of being his true self can be found right at the center of his success, as obvious as broadcaster strolling through batting practice.
Don’t get it twisted. Shannon was dynamic. And he evolved plenty over the years.
Some people are fortunate to find one thing they can do decently in life. Not Shannon. He was a great athlete, a beloved broadcaster, a successful businessman, a dedicated husband, father and friend. Those blessed by his generosity know firsthand the size of the heart he wore on his sleeve. Those who have attempted to stand in his way — Remember when he clashed with the Cardinals about real estate? — learned it usually was best to stand down.
Whether it was picking baseball over football when he could have been a Heisman Trophy candidate at quarterback, or switching from right field to third base after the Cardinals acquired Roger Maris, or building an unforgettable broadcasting career on the fly after a kidney ailment ended his playing days, Shannon often chased down new challenges. But he did so without letting the pursuits alter the one of a kind spirit that ignited him. Easy to say. Hard to do.
Shannon was Shannon, take it or leave it, love it or hate it, and that was what made so many loved him so hard. You knew what he thought, often as soon as he thought it. You trusted him to tell it like it is, even if it came out in a way that made you tilt your head and say, wait, what?
There always was time for a story, because the game’s score still would be there later. There always was time for a chuckle, even during a live read, especially that one about an art blowing class. And there were moments (good and bad) to get fired up, like when Kerry Wood brushed back Albert Pujols, or when the Cardinals were not meeting their own standards on the field, and Shannon refused to dress it up to listeners because he knew they knew better.
Shannon could go from cracking a joke, to reading a defense and predicting where the next hit would break through. His mastery of malapropisms too often overshadowed his deep knowledge of the game. He was warning baseball about its trend toward becoming borderline unwatchable, for example, long before this season’s new rules tried to improve action and pace of play.
“The most striking thing I will remember about Mike as I got to know him better through the years was how knowledgeable he was about baseball and its nuances,†shared retired Hall of Fame Post-Dispatch baseball writer Rick Hummel. “I should not have been surprised.â€
I know I’m not the only one who has wondered what comments Shannon would have shared from his booth during the club’s so-far lousy start this season. Former Cardinals manager Mike Shildt nailed it during Shannon’s retirement season in 2021, when Shildt said he was grateful to hear praise or criticism from Shannon. Because with Shannon, there always was the trust he was shooting straight.
It can become very easy in life to fall into a common trap. Be a certain version of yourself now, or someone else entirely, we are told, because it will lead to more freedom and fun later. Button up. Tone it down. Sleep more. Golf and fish less. Pass on that cold, frosty one.
Shannon knew better. He inhaled life like air, and invited anyone who could keep up along for the ride. Along the way he evolved, but he also knew knowing what not to change is just as important.
Few stay so unapologetically, admirably and enviably true. Shannon did until the end.