Saying goodbye to an old friend

Sid Scott was broadcasting Clinton County basketball games before I was even born – getting started during the 1958-59 basketball season shortly after WANY first signed on the air.

My first personal encounter with Sid came many years ago when I was still in elementary school and he, myself, my Dad, (the late A. B. Gibson former editor and publisher of the Clinton County News), and local businessman Carl McWhorter made a trip to Lexington to attend a University of Kentucky basketball game at Memorial Coliseum.

From there, our time together and our friendship, as well as our occasional arguments, grew. At the golf course, Sid and I often played together beginning with my high school years and continuing until a few years ago when I more or less left the game for the lake. Often times we would be on the same team, more often we were on opposing teams.

He announced my name a few times in high school during my high school playing days – emphasis on “a few”. Then, when Coach Lindle Castle tagged me to begin doing the public address work just moments before the 1978-79 season began, my place at the official table was two spots removed from the Clinton County bench – right next to Sid Scott.

For several years, we sat side by side, night after night, working Clinton County High School basketball games and comparing notes, doing between quarter and between game comparisons and joke sharing. Making coaching suggestions, talking about how poor the officiating was (come to think of it, I never remember us talking about what a good job a particular official had done), and even making fun of people in the crowd (who would have ever thought).

The stories I have are seemingly endless. The night official Wilson Sears made Sid move back a row because he was tired of listening to his constant criticizing.

The night Coach Castle broke Sid’s hand with an errant blow to our table as he returned to the bench after losing yet another argument with an official. It wasn’t the first – or last – time Sid uttered one of those select words that aren’t supposed to be used on the air.

The night Sid (the Mayor) threatened to have official Phil Burkeen arrested if we lost the 16th District championship.

The night he had a post-game encounter with an official’s friend at courtside who had been listening to the post-game show on her headphones and he continued to tell the world how the official should find another sideline occupation.

That was just Sid.

Of course it went both ways from time to time, as was the case on the night he grabbed my leg when I threatened to place my microphone in an inappropriate place on an opposing coach who was objecting to the way I was making announcements during free throws.

On that night – instead of me having a hold of his shirt sleeve – he was dishing out the wiser restraining move.

That was just Sid, too.

On the night a few seasons ago when that basketball that Storm Burchett kicked into the gym rafters and found it’s way back down to the top of my head, Sid’s comment over the air was not to worry about me because that basketball had hit me on the hardest part of my body – “square on top of the head – if it had hit him anywhere else, it might have hurt him”.

That was just Sid.

We worked together to organize the first Bulldog Booster Club WANY Radio Auction, and for many years, again sat side by side for the event, co-hosting the call-in show. (Several years ago, Sid passed that duty on to my now long-time co-host Jackie Flowers).

Sid took on coaches and gave his own suggestions as to what they were doing wrong. He certainly took on officials and was never shy at offering his expert advice on how a call was missed. I can’t count the number of times an official was “the worst I’ve ever seen”.

That was just Sid.

From time to time, he even took on the local newspaper editor (yours truly) and we would argue a point I had made the previous week, most often in this very space.

I came to recognize the stride Sid would use long before the first tip-off, when he came across the floor to my position at the table, to begin an argument. Funny thing was, we always left with a grin and a laugh. The last time it happened was just last season. He produced his proof to counter a claim I had made, and the next night, I made the trip across to his table to produce my proof to the point.

He looked it all over, and said – ‘well, I guess technically, you’re right – but I’m not wrong either.”

Again, we both laughed and I just shook my head as I made my way back across the floor to my spot at the official table.

That was just Sid.

Through all of that, he held dear to his heart, the love he had for the youngsters who through the years, wore the blue and white CCHS uniforms.

Last year, after our Lady Dawgs suffered that heartbreaking and upsetting loss in the 16th District Tournament, Sid told me while sitting in his kitchen – “If I don’t change my mind, I will never call another ballgame – I just can’t get over that loss.”

Of course, Sid changed his mind and once again, as this very season got underway, Sid was in his place, pencil in hand and headset in position, ready for the first “the toss, the tip” and another year of basketball action.

That was just Sid.

From time to time this past summer, I kept you readers updated on Sid’s condition and progress as he battled two separate issues with pneumonia and when football season arrived, he was there, doing play by play before suffering yet another setback.

Then basketball season arrived, and again he was on the sideline with his son, Sid II (Sid the Kid), and the antics continued.

But on Friday, Sid fell ill and he lost this last argument.

On Monday of this week, myself and several other pals, carried our friend to his final resting place after a very nice, moving funeral service.

He was buried in his blue jeans and his white Clinton County High School polo shirt. As we stood at the cemetery, Randy Speck leaned over to me and said he might have to take issue with the comment that Sid was in heaven, playing or broadcasting basketball.

“Sid would say they couldn’t play basketball in heaven, because there wouldn’t be any referees in heaven,” Randy said with a grin.

Yes, that’s what he would have said.

That was just Sid.

Monday night, the crowd in our gymnasium stood as I read a brief tribute to Sid over the public address system, while a small, blue and white wreath was on the table where he would have been sitting before a game began.

The game ended, and there was a winner, and a loser. But it just wasn’t the same.

There was no Sid.

Time heals all wounds, and time will heal this sorrow also.

But his personality and his passion for the game and especially for the players, will never be forgotten, and he wouldn’t want it to be any other way.

That was just Sid.