FROM THE SIDELINES: Bill Schonely's mark on the city and franchise was immeasurable

Now, with Schonely having passed away this past week at the age of 93, fans, the organization and the city of Portland must put to rest the man that was synonymous with them all.

Former Portland Tribune columnist Kerry Eggers once said that fans consider Schonely "the one constant link with Oregon's only major-league team."

At Schonely's induction to the 2002 Oregon Sports Hall of Fame, former Blazers center Bill Walton said: "Bill Schonely is as important to sports in the Northwest as Chick Hearn was to sports in Southern California. There are very few people in the history of Western civilization who have had that kind of an impact."

Walton also said: "Bill Schonely is the most important figure in the history of Oregon sports, with all due respect to Phil Knight and Maurice Lucas. Bill Schonely is the man who convinced people that sports are worthwhile."

And former Blazers great Terry Porter said this past weekend in a statement released by the team in the wake of his death, "The Schonz was a cornerstone of the organization since Day 1. He was the ultimate Trail Blazer — the voice of the Trail Blazers. He was someone that Blazers fans grew up listening to for many, many generations. His voice will be missed, his presence will be missed, but his legacy will not be forgotten. It's intertwined with every part of this organization."

While Walton, per usual, speaks with a heightened level of hyperbole, the crux of his, Eggers and Porter’s arguments are true. The man was special.

I’m old enough to remember Schonely in action. Not so much for his work as a team ambassador in recent years, or for his part as a commercial spokesperson for Standard TV and Appliance, but as the man who described to me a world I rarely could experience myself.

For much of Schonely’s time behind the mic, seeing a Trail Blazers game was a special occasion. Home games were almost never televised, tickets were hard to come by, and even road games found their way to the small screen at what seemed like the frequency of Halley’s Comet. So, in order to lay eyes on the Blazers in action, you either had to buy individual games on a dedicated pay-per-view cable channel or trundle into the old Paramount Theatre — known now as the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall — to watch a live, closed-circuit broadcast of the game that was being played less than 3 miles away.

That’s where the radio came into play, and where Schonely introduced himself to the fans who’d spend the next three decades flocking to the man like rats to the Pied Piper.

He wasn’t a polished version of a broadcaster looking for a home — he was a fan who welcomed us all to the household he created by way of the enthusiasm we shared for a team and the players on it.

He was his own shtick. It was his job to tell the story, and he’d tell you he did that to the best of his ability, but he did so without the loud, exaggerated delivery of some of today’s notable announcers, whose thirst for notoriety tells on their own inability to do it the right way.

Schonz seemed to know it wasn’t him people tuned in to see or hear, even though in time, he was an integral part of the experience they sought night after night, game after game, and season after season for almost 30 years.

Now, like his broadcasts more than two decades ago, he’s gone, and with him went a piece of what made the franchise and the city of Portland what it is today.

He brought us together, walked us through the action, and in the process of it all built a community with a lifetime of memories thanks to a few choice words, a few more choice phrases, and a genuine love for a city that undoubtedly loved him back.

Bill Schonely may be gone, but he will never be forgotten in the city he built a half-century ago. Rip City will never be the same, but it will go on — even if the “Mayor” is no longer with us.