Sports icon Bill King gets two-hour tribute

"You've got to be kidding me!" Davis recalled of his initial reaction.

Davis and dozens of other Bay Area sports figures shared similar stories Tuesday during a two-hour tribute to King, a renaissance radio man who died Oct. 18 at age 78 from complications following hip surgery.

Davis quickly grew fond of King, who called Raiders' games until 1992. He also was the longtime voice for the Warriors and Oakland Athletics, having just completed his 25th season with the A's. King had a gift for painting a picture through his words, taking fans from their living rooms to the ballpark, football stadium or courtside at a basketball game.

"He had a ravenous appetite for everything he did," said Ken Korach, King's partner in the A's booth the past 10 seasons. "While on vacation, he would keep score of every game."

King loved sailing, ballet, Russian literature, wearing flip flops, popcorn, pennant races and the designated hitter. He despised umpires, artificial turf, domed venues, interleague play, socks, shoes and the state of Texas.

Early in his career, King vowed to learn two new words a day, scribbling them into his scorebook for future use in his broadcasts. He told those he mentored never to refer to a grand slam as a grand slam home run, because that would be redundant.

"Bill King took a wet-behind-the-ears rookie and taught him a lot about life," said Hall of Fame forward Rick Barry, the No. 2 overall pick by the San Francisco Warriors out of Miami in 1965.

Pictures of King on his sailboat and in a checkered suit and bow tie on the sidelines were part of the celebration of his life at the Oakland Arena, home to the Warriors. A folding chair with his name on it stood on the stage along with his travel bag, and those who shared memories of him used his reading light to see their notes. Three dances were performed in his honor by the Smuin Ballet of San Francisco.

A framed photo of King already hangs in his booth in the Oakland Coliseum.

"He marched to a different drummer," said Al Attles, a former player and coach for the Warriors. "One thing he did not want to be known as was a homer. People say, 'Was Bill King the best announcer ever?' I don't know if he was, but I can't think of anyone better."

With all the star players to work for these franchises, King was a mainstay -- his signature call of "Holy Toledo!" resonating through households night after night.

At spring training in March, King tripped over some luggage in his Phoenix hotel room and had been struggling to get around all season -- missing a number of road games and relying on crutches and later a cane.

It didn't keep him from his job, or dampen his enthusiasm. He once referred to himself as "ageless," determined not to be outdone by the younger generation of broadcasters.

From Tony La Russa, Art Howe, Jim Plunkett and Nate Thurmond, to Tom Flores, Billy Beane, George Atkinson and Jim Otto -- many of the prominent figures of Northern California paid their final respects to King and the friendship he so easily won with those he covered.

Thurmond, the former Warriors' center, twice had season-ending knee injuries that kept him from traveling with the team. He followed the games by listening to King.

"Nobody ever called a basketball game and made you feel like you were there like Bill King," Thurmond said.

They will always remember his voice, his spirit for life, his unique way.

"To think it was Bill King who brought us together," Davis said, noticing it's a rare day when all the teams come together in one place. "Bill King never played for the Oakland Raiders, nor did he play for the Los Angeles Raiders. Nor did he wear the famed colors of silver and black. If he had worn them, he would have worn them with poise and with pride and with class, because he was a star.

"There was no one who represented us more than Bill King. ... We loved him. He left us his memories, his great voice and most of all he left us his friendship."<