A rare throat ailment keeps Roy Steele from his job as A's PA announcer

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VOICE OF GOD

A rare throat ailment keeps Roy Steele from his job as A's PA

announcer

Gwen Knapp

Sunday, July 9, 2006

Roy Steele tried to spell out the name of the medical condition that

has incapacitated him and then admitted something very out of

character. " I don't even know if I'm saying it right,'' said the man

whose job required him to master baseball names by the thousands,

from Aparicio to Zito.

This has been an excruciating year for the A's public-address

announcer. Steele took the microphone at the Coliseum back in 1968,

when the A's came to Oakland, and didn't relinquish it until last

September. He had achalasia, a rare disorder of the esophagus, which

caused chronic distress, something akin to acid reflux but much

worse. The first symptoms appeared about three years ago, and an

operation in April 2004 offered only temporary relief.

After Steele left the booth, the A's delicately attributed his

departure to a throat problem and said they expected the 73-year-old

Steele to return eventually. Then the 2006 season started, and he

wasn't in the booth. Over the winter, Steele's condition worsened.

There was nothing delicate about it.

In February, his weight reached a frightening low of 139 pounds,

about 110 pounds less than the usually husky Steele once carried on

his 5-foot, 9-inch frame. He was placed on a feeding machine, which

bypasses his damaged esophagus, and he spent almost two months in a

hospital bed at a nurse's training center. When he returned to his

home in Auburn, the feeding machine went with him. Steele must stay

hooked up to it 14 hours a day.

He can't eat solid food, nor does he want to. He does want to return

to the Coliseum, but there are many obstacles, from the feeding tube

to a relentless case of the hiccups. They have been tamed, for the

most part, but at their worst, the hiccups came every three seconds,

Steele said, and they would last " 24/7, for weeks at a time.''

" It sounds crazy and almost funny,'' he said, " but it's not funny if

you do it for weeks on end.''

Steele agreed to a phone interview last week, partly at the

suggestion of A's scoreboard operator Chester Farrow, his friend of

more than 30 years. From his children, who read A's message boards

on the Internet, Steele knew that his absence from the booth had

become something of a mystery and that many people assume that he

has throat cancer.

As a fixture in the ballpark for 38 years, he had become an icon,

nicknamed " the Voice of God.'' On Monday, a fan hung a banner in

left field that read " We Miss You Roy.'' The feeling is mutual.

" I loved my job. I've never, ever had a bad feeling about having to

go to work,'' Steele said.

Dick Callahan, the former Warriors announcer who still does Cal

football and St. 's basketball, is announcing at A's games now.

Steele came to the baseball world by way of the ministry, which may

partially explain his nickname. As a teenager in the Church of

Christ in San Leandro, he was encouraged to become a preacher by

several people who recognized his gift for public speaking. For most

of his 20s and 30s, he moved from town to town, working in a variety

of parishes.

To support his family, which eventually grew to include eight

children, Steele took an array of side jobs. At one point, when he

lived in Twentynine Palms (San Bernardino County), he held down

three positions -- minister, athletic director for the parks and

recreation department and disc jockey for a local radio station. He

moved back north just as Marine World was opening in Redwood City

and Charlie Finley was moving the A's to Oakland. He became the

announcer for the water-skiing show at Marine World, and he

remembers getting the A's job as soon as he showed up to apply.

Steele had always loved sports, and in the early years with the A's,

he often went onto the field to shag fly balls and occasionally to

throw batting practice. When the team reached the World Series,

Finley invited Steele to ride in his limo on the way to the games.

He also made great friends. Steele lived in the Sacramento area, a

tough commute to the ballpark. So about 10 years ago, Farrow, a

widower, offered a spare room in his Walnut Creek home to Steele,

who is divorced. He would stay there during the A's homestands, and

when they ended, Farrow would usually have a barbecue for the crew.

" We'd hash over the games, relive everything, and then Roy would

drive home, and he'd come back when the A's finished their road

trip,'' Farrow said.

Steele lives by himself in a senior mobile home park in Auburn, but

five of his eight children live nearby, and he said his

grandchildren pray with him and for him.

His weight is up to 165 pounds, but he has very little energy, and

being tethered to the machine limits his mobility. When he is lucky,

he can sleep through a lot of the 14 hours and then do other things

when he has more freedom. Once an avid golfer whose handicap dropped

as low as 10, he says he can't handle much more than short walks

now. Depression has set in at times, he said, and it's hard to

regain physical strength when the emotions are so heavily taxed.

The illness has been financially draining, as well. He lives on

Social Security and Medicare, and the pills he must take four times

a day cost about $500 per month. Help from Medicare's new

prescription plan and the ballclub have made the treatments

financially feasible.

" If it weren't for the new law and the A's, I'd be in a lot of

trouble,'' he said.

Steele doesn't know whether he will ever be able to come back to the

Coliseum, or whether he will have another surgical procedure to fix

his esophagus and free him from the feeding tube. The weight gain is

encouraging, but he will have to be consistently healthy for a while

before he returns to the mike. He doesn't think it would be fair to

anyone to risk coming back when a relapse seems possible. He does

have hope, though.

" Three of my children on the same night dreamt that I was back to

normal,'' he said, " and I thought that meant something.''

As Steele talked, a layer of exhaustion hung over his voice,

shrouding some of his distinctive timbre. But the sound is still

there, as if waiting to rally. The A's couldn't have a better

comeback.

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Roy Steele has been the A's public address announcer at the Coliseum

every year since the team's move to Oakland in 1968. His booming

baritone voice has earned him the Voice of God moniker among A's

fans, although it was first bestowed upon him by sports announcer

Jon after a visit to the Coliseum as a fan sitting in the

stands. Ironically, Steele had been an independent minister for 17

years before being named stadium announcer and finds the name " a

little overpowering. " From 1968 through 2004, Steele had missed

fewer than 10 home games, but an illness in September 2005 prevented

Steele from announcing several games including most of the final

homestand. Steele has not yet returned to the A's this season.

-- Wikipedia

E-mail Gwen Knapp at gknapp@....

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[Guest guest]

So how do we find him to let him know we are here??

I'm guessing if the poor guy is hooked up 14 hours a day at home,

he'd be pretty happy to get to know us.

Anyone have any thoughts?

Happy Swallowing!

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