In the heart of the Pacific Northwest, where the mist rolls off Puget Sound and the crack of the bat echoes like thunder, there's a voice that's been the soundtrack to my life as a baseball fan—and later, as a player. That voice belongs to Rick Rizzs, the legendary broadcaster for the Seattle Mariners. “RIZZ” is the man who's painted pictures with words for generations of fans, including me, Bucky Jacobsen. Growing up in the '80s and '90s in Hermiston, Oregon—not too far from the Washington border — I was just another kid obsessed with the Mariners. While we had cable TV, I liked listening to Rizz, and he made the games come alive through the radio. I'd huddle under the covers, listening as Rick Rizzs brought the Kingdome to life. His voice was warm, enthusiastic, like an old friend recounting the play-by-play over a backyard barbecue. "Holy smoke!" he'd exclaim when Edgar Martinez ripped a double, or after a Griffey homer sailed into the upper deck. His phrases weren't just catchphrases; they were magic spells that turned static into stadium roars.
As a young fan, I idolized the players—Junior, Buhner, Edgar, Randy Johnson—but Rick and Dave Niehaus were the voices that painted the pictures. Rizz wasn't just announcing; he was storytelling. The 1995 ALDS wasn't just a playoff matchup—it was a seismic event that saved baseball in Seattle. I remember when Rick's voice captured the electric tension of Edgar's double that scored Joey and Junior from first. I was 20, jumping around with my college roommates like I'd won the lottery. But there were tough times too—the lean years when the team struggled, and Rick's steady optimism kept the faith alive. He'd weave in stats, history, and heart, reminding us that baseball is about more than wins; it's about the journey, the community. His accomplishments stack up like a Hall of Fame resume: over 40 years with the Mariners, calling iconic moments from the team's inception in 1977 through the glory of 2001's 116-win season, as well as a short few outs from our first trip to the fall classic last year. He's won awards, sure—multiple Washington Sportscaster of the Year honors—but it's his dedication that shines.
Rick's been the voice through expansions, rebuilds, and even the Safeco Field transition, always with that infectious energy that made every game feel special. Those broadcasts fueled my dreams. I'd imagine Rick Rizz in my backyard, calling my imaginary games while tossing the ball up to myself and hitting it into the neighbor’s yard. The voice of summer saying, “And Jacobsen steps to the plate... swing and a drive... deep to left... goodbye baseball!" Little did I know that one day, those words would be real. Fast-forward to 2004, when I got the call-up to the big leagues with the Mariners. At 28, after grinding through the minors, I was finally in the Show…and playing for the team I grew up on... My Mariners.
My debut was surreal—facing future Cy Young award winner Cliff Lee at Safeco Field, the crowd buzzing. But the real pinch-me moment came later, listening to the replays on the radio. There I was, Bucky Jacobsen, the kid from Hermiston, hearing Rick Rizzs call my name. "Jacobsen with a towering shot... that ball is outta here!" My first homer as a Mariner, off Hall of Famer CC Sabathia on July 17th, 2004—it was like stepping into my childhood fantasy. Rick's voice boomed with genuine excitement, as if he knew how much it meant not just to me, but to fans like me who'd grown up with him. I experienced many firsts that season, and each time Rick described them, it felt personal. He'd highlight the power, the arc, the roar of the crowd, making me feel like a star even in a losing year for the team. It was bittersweet—my career was cut short by injuries—but those calls from Rick? They're etched in my soul. He didn't just broadcast; he validated the grind, the passion that got me there.
Rick Rizzs isn't just a broadcaster; he's the heartbeat of Mariners baseball. His accomplishments—thousands of games called, charity work like his non-profit Toys For Kids that he co-founded in 1995 with former Seattle Mariners outfielder and broadcaster Dave Henderson, and the Mariners Care Foundation—speak to a life dedicated to the game. But for me, it's deeper. He bridged my fandom from a boy with Edgar Martinez’s baseball card in the brim of my little league hat, to my days playing on the same team as Edgar Martinez.
Rizz was a part of turning a boy's dreams into a man's memories. Thanks, Rick, for the stories, the enthusiasm, and for making every Mariners moment feel like home. Holy smoke, what a ride it's been.
Thank you, my friend, for being the Voice of my Summers.
Love you, buddy!