Howie Rose.

Howie Rose. Credit: Jeff Bachner

Local sports TV announcers tend to have bigger audiences, fatter paychecks and better wardrobes than their radio counterparts.

Then come the playoffs, when the radio folks get their revenge.

With national networks taking charge – throughout in baseball, and after the first round in hockey and basketball – familiar local television announcers are muted.

It’s weird.

Watching Gary Cohen describe the Mets wild-card clincher from an SNY studio in Manhattan on Thursday night was like having Frost describe two roads diverging in a yellow wood – after watching a replay of the wood on his iPad.

Howie Rose could relate. He used to do Mets TV.

“I went through that; in 1999 and 2000, I wasn’t involved,” he told Newsday this week. “You know it when you sign on for that job, and you deal with it."

Now Rose is on the flip side of that, in a huge way.

He long ago secured his place in the annals of local radio announcers meeting big playoff moments. (1994. Stephane Matteau. Google it.) But this week has cemented him in New York sports media history to an extent even he only could have dreamed of previously.

First, it was his call of Francisco Lindor’s playoff-clinching home run in Atlanta on Monday. That one had a Cohen counterpart on SNY, because it was the regular season.

Then came Thursday night in Milwaukee.

ESPN’s Jon “Boog” Sciambi is a respected pro, and there was nothing wrong with his call of Pete Alonso’s ninth-inning, wild-card-series-winning three-run homer.

But c’mon now. For Mets fans – and the Mets themselves – it is Rose’s call that forever will live on.

The Mets posted a video from their team plane on the way home of Rose’s call being played over the public address system, followed by Rose walking to the back of the plane to embrace Alonso.

There is no amount of TV money or fame that can buy a moment like that, not for a kid from Queens who has been a Mets fan from Day One.

The peculiar thing about these radio calls is that most people do not hear them live. This time of year, the vast majority of fans watch on television.

That is where odd and annoying things sometimes occur on national broadcasts.

Example: That dugout interview ESPN did with the Brewers’ Garrett Mitchell during the ninth inning of Game 2 – arguably the most ridiculous thing to occur in the 85-year history of baseball on television.

But over the years and decades to come, it is the local radio calls that tend to echo in memory, from Bob Papa on the Giants’ Super Bowl victories to John Sterling on the Yankees’ late 1990s dynasty.

(Sam Rosen’s famous TV call of the Rangers’ 1994 Stanley Cup clincher was the last time the NHL allowed a local outlet to carry the Final.)

That is what is cool about the fact Sterling has returned for an encore to call this Yankees postseason. Part of the fun for fans will be spending the day after victories reliving it all through Sterling audio.

Much has been said and written about this Mets season, especially their revival from an awful start in April and May.

Add Rose himself to their tale of resiliency. He turned 70 in the offseason and cut back to a very limited travel schedule. The treatment he received for bladder cancer in 2021 has made long road trips more difficult for him.

But he added the final regular-season road trip to his schedule and always was planning to call the playoffs, which he told Newsday he would travel to Timbuktu for if necessary.

He ended up with an Atlanta-Milwaukee-Atlanta-Milwaukee itinerary bridging the regular season and playoffs, which was grueling but well worth it when he found himself being celebrated on that plane by his favorite childhood team.

Next up: An easier trip to Philadelphia for the NLDS. If all goes as it has so far, maybe Rose will get another tribute on the bus home for what he has to say there.

The beauty of Rose’s wild week is that he appreciates it as much as anyone does. His historical perspective allows him to give fans new memories while connecting them to his own.

He is narrating 2024 the way Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner narrated 1969 for him.

“It’s storybook,” he said. “When I allow that to sort of flow and seep through my consciousness, when somebody tells you about being this generation’s Lindsey, Bob and Ralph, it leaves me almost speechless.

“It’s sort of a lifetime achievement award that I can’t even describe how proud it makes me.”

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