“Leading off for the St. Louis Cardinals ... No. 20 ... left fielder Lou Brock.”

With that announcement, Dan Baker became the voice of Phillies games at Veterans Stadium. The record shows it was the home opener on a Monday night, April 1972.

The voice was a new one to Phillies fans. Who is he and where did he come from?

• Phillies Alumni

Four years earlier, Baker graduated from Glassboro State College with a degree in Junior High School education. He began a teaching career with fifth and sixth grades at Landreth Elementary School in Philadelphia. He once took some of his students to a Phillies game as a reward for good behavior and work.

During the summers of 1969-1971, he served as the PA announcer for Buddy Wagner’s Lucky Mustang Hell Drivers, a traveling auto daredevil show.

“I'm actually a Philadelphia native having moved to Mt. Ephraim, N.J., with my family at the age of 7 in 1954. Growing up in Mt. Ephraim is where I really developed my love of baseball and the Phillies,” he explained.

His dream was to be a Phillies broadcaster or public address announcer.

Baker learned the ballclub was considering making a change as the PA voice following the 1971 season, the first at Veterans Stadium. After writing letters to the Phillies and chatting with club officials, he landed an interview with Bill Giles, then the team’s vice president, business operations.

At age 25, Baker began living his dream. He’s still going, much like the Energizer rabbit.

Unlike many other ball clubs, Baker’s role included being on the field pre-game for all the festivities and announcements. The Phillies felt it was important that he was visible, just not a voice that was heard out of stadium speakers.

His workstation for 81 games was the scoreboard control room on first-base side of the press level. Seated next to Baker was the scoreboard director, Chris Wheeler. Organist Paul Richardson was in an adjacent booth. Coordination was needed in entertaining fans.

In addition to announcing, Baker also operated the game-in-progress scoreboard of balls, strikes, outs, runs, hits and errors. There wasn’t much idle time.

When the Phillies moved to Citizens Bank Park, the same routine would apply pregame and in-game. He is easy to spot on the field -- the best-dressed man, a virtual walking advertisement for Brooks Brothers. In-game, he occupies a seat in the front row of the glass enclosed Phanavision control room located behind Hall of Fame Club section 212.

In front of Baker is a microphone on a stand and a control box with a red button. Those are his working tools. Press the red button and his recognizable voice blares throughout the ballpark.

Before he gets to do that, there’s homework. He checks every name in the starting lineups. Next, the pregame script needs to be gone over more than once. “The cardinal sin for a PA announcer is to mispronounce a name,” he cautions. With a blue felt-tip pen, he makes note of names that need checking on the 5”x7” index cards he numbers in sequence. To verify player enunciations, he’ll ask the public relations staffs or visiting radio-TV announcers or even the player himself. If there’s an uncertain name that’s part of the pregame festivities, he’ll seek the proper pronunciation when he arrives on the field.

“I learned from my parents a long time ago the importance of enunciating every syllable,” he says. “That is the key to being a PA announcer. If you speak too fast, the fans won’t understand what you are saying.”

A detailed schedule of the pregame events timed down to the second is available to the entire control room staff. It is the topic of a daily pregame production meeting that includes Baker.

About 25 minutes prior to game time, he’s on the field with a script in hand ... special awards, introductions, ceremonial first-ball tossers, national anthem singers, starting lineups and umpires. He is a master of precision in following scripts.

The biggest challenge, other than proper pronunciation of names often occurred after the playing of the national anthem. In a race against the clock, he’d dash off the field, head up a runway and hop on the press elevator hoping it is an express to the Hall of Fame Club level. Once it reached that level, he’d exit the elevator and virtually sprint to the control room, zig-zagging through the crowd like a halfback. Depending upon the length of the elevator ride, he’s miss one or two batters. A fellow control room employee is always on standby when that happened.

For years, missed games were rare. A battle with cancer wiped out the pandemic-shortened 30 home game 2020 season for him. He returned a year ago as eager and enthusiastic as ever. His pace is a bit slower as one might expect for a 75-year-old.

Baker is a lifelong fan who takes defeats hard. He’s been known to blow off steam in the control room (off-mike, naturally). He’s also been known to cheer (again, off-mike).

Being in the control room with him six years ago, I experienced what I had heard. In this particular game, Cole Hamels is in a jam, with runners on first and second and one out. “Martin [Pirates catcher] can hit into double plays, and we need one," he muttered to anyone within earshot. Then the red button: “Now batting, No. 55, catcher Russell Martin.” Martin doubles into the left-field corner, driving in one run. “Oh, well,” he muttered firmly while pounding the table with his right fist.

On occasion, he’s gotten feedback from Phillies players. “One time Rob Ducey, a really nice person, approached me. ‘Dan, bench players don’t seem to get the same enthusiastic announcement. I know we aren’t the big names, but we should get equal treatment.’ I really didn’t think I did it, but was appreciative of the feedback. I rededicated myself to make sure I didn’t snub any player.”

Former second baseman Ted Sizemore, as a Rawlings Sporting Goods representative, returned to Veterans Stadium one time to present a Gold Glove Award to one of the Phillies players. Ted sought out Baker, “Dan, I loved your introduction when I came to bat. Can you give me a ‘SIZE-moor’ one more time?”

His favorite name to enunciate? Baker paused, “I guess it would be MICK-eee Moor-an-DIN-ee. Or Greg Lu-ZIN-ski.”

While he’s driven to be accurate, he will make a mistake. He is human. One he recalls happened in the mid-1970s. “The Giants had Willie McCovey, No. 44, on the roster. The Phillies had Willie Montanez, No. 27. Montanez came to the plate, and I announced, ‘Now batting for the Phillies, No. 27, Willie McCovey.’ I was embarrassed. Next day, Montanez walks up behind me on the field, taps me on the shoulder and with that big smile of his, says ‘Montanez, Montanez.’”

In the world of PA announcers in baseball, only two have had longer tenures, Pat Pieper, who worked 59 years for the Cubs (1916-74), and Bob Sheppard, a 57-year voice of the Yankees (1951-2007). At 50 years, Baker joins that elite legendary level while also living his dream

His voice is his most recognizable trait. But in many ways, he’s one of the many faces of the Phillies. More importantly, Dan Baker is a Philadelphia treasure.