Commentary: Nobody calls games like Tom Hamilton -- and he'll get his moment in the sun

Note to all future Cleveland Guardians teams: If you sense that, for whatever reason, your team is going to be — how should we say it? — competitively challenged in a given year, make sure Tom Hamilton is still in the booth, at the mic, and performing as he always does, as the Hall of Famer that he is. Strive to be as good at your job as the incomparable Hammy is at his. If, however, in some future season, a Guardians team ignites a Guardians fan base by running the table and smashing its way to the city's gruesome, long-awaited World Series championship, well then, just sit back and enjoy the show. The Hammy Show. He's earned it, and we've craved it. All of us, for waiting all these years through all the disappointments, and heartbreaks we've shared with Cleveland's electric-voiced Hall of Famer, who has helped us trudge through these many years of wait until next year, only to be told the following year to wait some more. Through it all, however, Hammy is at the mic, calling them as he sees them. No more honest voice, feel for the game and pitch-perfect delivery has ever sat in the booth at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario or, for that matter, at Cleveland Stadium or League Park. Guardians fans could even argue the only one who deserves a World Series championship more than Cleveland's team or Cleveland's fans is Cleveland's matchless baseball voice, who, in his 35th year on the job, will soon be inducted into the broadcasters wing of the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. How delicious it could have been had the Guardians fielded a more competitive team this season. But, alas, the baseball gods don't work that way. Nor should they. More than any other sport, baseball camps out in the hearts and minds of fans from coast to coast, for years and years. It's the radio play-by-play broadcasters who bring us the heart and soul of the game, and nobody does it better than the inexhaustible wordsmith sitting in his booth at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. Hammy is everything a broadcaster should be: knowledgeable, fair, honest, opinionated, and not a homer. He has always checked all the boxes that should be checked, on both sides. However, if there is a single calling card that shines the brightest in Hammy's resume, it is his electrifying calls in the biggest moments. Nobody does it better. Fans in Cleveland have known and savored that for years, but in last year's postseason run Hammy was off-the-charts great, and fans around the country got the Full Hammy, which was repeatedly breathtaking. Nobody verbally seizes the moment better than the great Tom Hamilton. Last fall, in the postseason, in every single big moment — and there were plenty, both good and bad for Cleveland — he was on time and on target, and his audience had the chills to prove it. He was born to do what he is doing, and he proves it every baseball season, but particularly in every big moment. Not to worry. Last fall Hammy barreled up every single one of them. It was a tour-de-force of baseball broadcasting by a broadcaster so great that he makes the difficult look easy. That includes not being a homer, which, unfortunately in today's game, is becoming a growing, lamentable and inexcusable habit. All of which only calls more attention to the nuanced professionalism of Cleveland's baseball Shakespeare and the effortless excellence that he brings to the microphone every day, whether it's Game 7 of the World Series or a spring training game in Goodyear, Ariz. The great ones make the hard stuff look easy. That has never been a problem for Tom Hamilton, who for many years has been one of the great ones who deserved a spot in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. Thankfully, that day is finally coming. Unfortunately, it has been a long wait. Tom Hamilton is a broadcasting legend whose day in the sun has been long overdue. However, greatness is greatness whether it is on time or caught in a rundown between first and second base. In the case of the great Hammy, the baseball gods have been asleep at the switch for far too long. This was the year that would have been the perfect time for the Guardians to go on a long second-half run-up to a berth in the postseason. Instead, the opposite has happened. The Guardians have a Hall of Fame-bound broadcast legend for whom a late-season surge could have thrust the team, and the Hall of Fame broadcaster, into the postseason. But baseball is a fickle sport. Nobody knows that more than Cleveland. Contact Jim Ingraham at jingraham4@gmail.com.