Yankees Mag: Dream Team

Dave Sims has been a fixture on sports radio dating back to the 1980s, doing about every job imaginable in that time. He has hosted call-in shows, handled pre- and postgame duties and has provided play-by-play for thousands of individual games, whether basketball, football or baseball.

Having seen so much in a richly decorated career, the 72-year-old Sims still barely needs a beat to suggest five things for which he would give anything to have been behind the microphone.

Like any baseball broadcaster, he would have loved to call some of Babe Ruth¡¯s career. And he wishes he had been there for Joe DiMaggio¡¯s hit streak and Bobby Thomson¡¯s homer. Two moments in particular, though, stand out for the Philadelphia native, who will join the Yankees¡¯ WFAN radio booth this year after 18 seasons calling Mariners games on radio and TV. Combining the goals of perfecting his craft and celebrating history, Sims lands on Henry Aaron¡¯s record-setting homer and Jackie Robinson¡¯s world-altering debut.

In Aaron¡¯s case, Sims recalls the way that the G.O.A.T., Vin Scully, handled the moment; if anything, Sims wants to have been there to watch as the beloved announcer narrated No. 715, then let the moment speak for itself. ¡°Hammer hits the home run,¡± Sims says, marveling at Scully¡¯s reaction, ¡°he gets up, takes his headphones off, walks to the back of the booth, gets himself a cup of coffee and lays out for like 30 seconds.¡±

Shortly after Aaron made his way around the bases and touched home plate, Scully would return to the air, recognizing the historic blast, as well as the significance of, as the legendary baseball voice noted, ¡°A Black man getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol. And it is a great moment for all of us, particularly for Henry Aaron.¡± In the course of about 60 seconds, Scully was able to both offer silence to let the moment breathe and scream out its importance.

As for Robinson? Mostly, Sims has questions, the type that he¡¯s used to reporting out and answering. ¡°I would love to know the mood,¡± Sims says. ¡°The atmosphere. The weather. What people were saying before the game. What Robinson might have had to say before the game. His teammates, were they supportive? How supportive?

¡°I would have loved to sit there. I would watch that. I would wear that tape out.¡±

As Sims takes the microphone that belonged to John Sterling for nearly two generations and teams with Suzyn Waldman to create a unique and exciting booth that will bring Yankees baseball into fans¡¯ homes, he is unlikely to narrate a moment on par with Robinson¡¯s debut. Aaron Judge, though great, isn¡¯t going to challenge Aaron¡¯s career mark anytime soon, let alone Barry Bonds¡¯.

But baseball history happens every day, and some of that history, that pioneering novelty, can be seen in the newcomer and the returning analyst on the radio broadcasts. As fans adjust to a new pairing, no one is more excited about what lies ahead than Sims and Waldman.

¡°I¡¯m just looking forward to watching the Yankees defend the American League championship and, hopefully, get back to the World Series and win this thing,¡± Sims says.

Waldman has been around the game long enough that she understands the relationships that broadcast partners share. She knows that some are good friends and that others walk off in separate directions the moment the final out is recorded. It doesn¡¯t become news ¡°because you are a professional,¡± she says. ¡°This isn¡¯t high school.¡±

She and Sterling were close during their years sharing a booth. As such, there was a levity and a comfort to conversation between friends. Behind the scenes, especially as Sterling reached the age at which life on the road became more difficult, Waldman was constantly by his side, helping him get around, going well beyond the job description of a coworker.

That¡¯s not to say broadcast partners have to be best friends, just that there¡¯s a benefit to putting together a team of people who like one another. It certainly makes the brutal schedule more palatable, but it also improves the product. The fans, Waldman knows, ¡°pick up on something. They don¡¯t know that they don¡¯t like each other, but they think that maybe something¡¯s a little wrong. You want people to think that you are enjoying yourself, too.¡±

So, it¡¯s no small thing that Waldman and her new radio partner have that dynamic in place already. She and Sims would text constantly during games when they were on opposite coasts, sharing funny moments and learning new facts. ¡°We¡¯ve been friends since 1987!¡± Waldman says.

Or, as Sims puts it, ¡°We know each other and like each other. That¡¯s a start!¡±

Waldman is quick to point out that while Sims may have grown up in Philadelphia, and while he is a proud Eagles fan, he¡¯s a New Yorker at heart. Having started his media career with the New York Daily News, Sims went on to WFAN and hosted radio coverage for New York Knicks broadcasts. Even during the 18 years he spent on the West Coast, Sims kept his home in New York.

¡°He¡¯s wanted this job for a long time,¡± Waldman says. ¡°This is his dream job, I¡¯m sure.¡±

Sims and Waldman figure that it won¡¯t take long at all to turn their friendship into a successful rapport in the booth. They¡¯ll learn each other¡¯s cadences, get to the point where they can know the difference between a verbal comma and a period. As a play-by-play announcer, Sims will learn the best way to set Waldman up for incisive color analysis, and Waldman will know how to be ready with the point her partner is teeing up.

It helps that both Sims and Waldman have been calling baseball games for a while. Beyond that, though, it helps that they come from a very similar place mentally and that they, as Waldman puts it, see the same game.

¡°She¡¯s not enslaved by 18th-level sabermetrics,¡± Sims concurs, ¡°which are good for evaluating players. But I don¡¯t have time to break down the hundreds of categories now that have emerged out of the Moneyball sabermetric age over the last few years. ¡®Hey, what¡¯s the score? Who¡¯s swinging the bat well? Who¡¯s a good guy? What funny story did you hear?¡¯ And as a radio consumer, when I listen to games on radio, just tell me the damn score. Let¡¯s start there.¡±

It¡¯s a skill that Sims has been honing since he got into the business. During his time in Seattle, Sims would switch mid-game between radio and TV, and while play-by-play might seem like a singular art, the difference between TV and radio couldn¡¯t be more pronounced. ¡°I always say it¡¯s like horseshoes and hand grenades,¡± Sims says. ¡°I mean, there¡¯s no relationship whatsoever.¡± It¡¯s not just that a radio broadcaster has to fill in more of the details that a fan can¡¯t see. There¡¯s also no score bug offering a constant, subconscious reset. That job falls on the announcer.

¡°Red Barber,¡± Sims says of the legendary baseball voice, ¡°always talked about having a two-minute egg timer: ¡®What¡¯s the score? How did we get here? What¡¯s going on?¡¯ Because you¡¯re in the car, you¡¯re at home, you¡¯re putzing around, you don¡¯t have full attention on what¡¯s going on. But as long as you hear the score and what¡¯s going on in the game, everything after that is great.

¡°I¡¯ve learned, don¡¯t overthink a lot of this stuff. On my podcast a little bit ago, the great Marty Brennaman, the Hall of Fame voice of the Reds, said, ¡®David, just call what you see.¡¯¡±

What exactly that means for Yankees fans will take some time to figure out. Sims is replacing a legend in Sterling, who worked 5,060 consecutive Yankees games from 1989 to 2019 before advancing age and the COVID-19 pandemic forced some breaks. He abruptly retired in April of last year before returning to call games during the season¡¯s last weeks and through the Yankees¡¯ World Series run.

He was, for this generation of fans, the voice of the Yankees, no different from how fathers and grandfathers remember the likes of Barber and Mel Allen.

Waldman marvels at how fans connect with their teams¡¯ radio voices, in ways different from TV announcers. She believes that the response is more intrinsic, more emotional, that you maintain an affection and a connection for the radio voice of your youth more so than the commentators narrating the pictures on the TV screen. As she embarks on a first full season doing Yankees radio without Sterling, she knows what¡¯s lost.

¡°John is an original,¡± Waldman says. ¡°John is unique. You can¡¯t do that ever again. He was that person in the right time in history and did it forever. And to generations of Yankee fans, John Sterling is their childhood. He¡¯s everything for them.¡±

Conveniently, her new partner is no rookie. While there were certain joys Waldman got to experience in 2024, as the suddenness of Sterling¡¯s departure created a scramble of fill-in voices, it was also a challenge. She says that she worked with seven different partners over the course of the season, most (but certainly not all) of them trying to find their stride. With so many ¡°teammates,¡± it was almost like being back in the theater world where Waldman got her start, essentially running lines with people auditioning for the role of a lifetime. Only, instead of a script, it was improv. (Waldman notes that she¡¯s basically been doing improv for over 40 years of broadcasting, and that while she might not be Second City ready, she¡¯s got some chops.)

But beyond simply having experience in the industry, Sims also knows how to step in for a titan. In Seattle, Sims had to fill the shoes worn by Dave Niehaus, a legend in the Emerald City. ¡°That¡¯s about as beloved as you can get in this world,¡± Waldman says.

Sims never tried to be Niehaus, any more than he will try to be Sterling. There¡¯s an authenticity that baseball play-by-play demands, and you don¡¯t get that by mimicking those who came before you. There are echoes, to be sure; Sims has spent a lifetime listening to the greatest ever behind the microphones, and you can certainly find the inspirations if you listen closely enough. But you¡¯ll also hear the passion. The enthusiasm. The love for the memories and the reverence for those who create them. His voice is attached to some of the greatest moments in Mariners history. As he moves across the country, the audience might change, but Sims doesn¡¯t expect that he will.

And that should mostly work wonderfully for fans, unless they¡¯re the type who count on announcers to abide by their own superstitions. Sims has been behind the microphone for two perfect games, including one by Mariners legend Felix Hern¨¢ndez. If Yankees fans are hoping to be spared learning about the drama unfolding, they¡¯re in for a tough adjustment.

¡°I¡¯m going to tell you, I do not adhere to what the players do,¡± Sims says. ¡°God bless ¡¯em, I get it. But I¡¯ve got a broadcast to do. I¡¯m informing people.¡± He recalls one game in particular, when he was walking in the press box between innings during a pitcher¡¯s gem. ¡°I ran into Larry Stone, a great baseball writer and columnist for The Seattle Times, in the hallway. ¡®Sims, you¡¯re getting killed online. What are you talking about? Because you talked about it being a no-hitter.¡¯ I said, ¡®Well, it¡¯s on them! It ain¡¯t on me! I¡¯m doing my job, reporting what the heck is happening!¡¯¡±

Sims needs little introduction in the baseball world, and certainly none with his new partner and longtime friend. But if there was a coming-out party for the new broadcast duo, it occurred during the 100th Annual New York Baseball Writers¡¯ Dinner this past January, when Sims presented Waldman and Sterling with the William Slocum/Jack Lang Award for Long and Meritorious Service, part of an evening that saw the BBWAA hand out its major 2024 awards, including the Cy Young, Rookie of the Year and MVP honors.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, and as Waldman and Sterling stepped to the dais to accept their honor, it was reasonable to expect a joke or two and a ¡°Thank you.¡± Little more.

Waldman, though, had something to say. Isn¡¯t it notable, she wondered aloud, that the award¡¯s namesake, Jack Lang -- the longtime New York baseball writer and executive secretary of the BBWAA who passed away in 2007 -- had 35 years earlier called a policeman to physically remove her from the VIP area at the annual dinner for the ¡°crime¡± of being a woman. ¡°The irony of this award is not lost on me,¡± Waldman said from the podium. ¡°Probably not Jack, either. We¡¯ve come a long way, baby.¡±

Away from the dais, Waldman is clear about how much intention goes into the moments when she pushes back against ignorant gatekeepers, in whatever form they take. ¡°I had to fight every second of the day with that group, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s changed as much as everybody thinks it has,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone to forget what we¡¯ve gone through, and I¡¯m never going to forget it. And I don¡¯t want anyone that¡¯s 30 thinking, ¡®Boy, it was always like this ¡­¡¯ because it wasn¡¯t, and it can go back the other way in two seconds. It might have been nicer if I hadn¡¯t brought it up.

¡°I still say to this day: I am tolerated. I am not accepted. And maybe that¡¯s part of what keeps me going. But there¡¯s nothing that¡¯ll ever make me believe that I¡¯m fully part of this.¡±

Waldman¡¯s experiences are her own, no different from how Sims¡¯ history is his alone. Their journeys -- the one that has had Waldman calling Yankees games for two decades, and the one that brought Sims to her side for this year and into the future -- are measured in more than the final destination. But it¡¯s hard not to notice the diversity found in the current New York Yankees radio booth. As the 2025 Yankees set out to eliminate some traditions that no longer feel particularly relevant, it¡¯s certainly worth at least a short pause to consider what a traditional radio booth looked like during baseball¡¯s supposed ¡°golden age.¡± And it¡¯s worth celebrating where things stand now.

¡°You know who would love this?¡± Waldman says. ¡°No one was more supportive of me than George Steinbrenner. He would love this, that a Black man and a woman were the voices of the Yankees. He would love it.¡±

The hope -- and certainly the expectation -- is that Yankees fans will love it just as much as the Boss would have. It¡¯s hard to see how they won¡¯t. Waldman has already worked with the most beloved of Yankees characters, and Sims has already stepped into a legend¡¯s place. They¡¯ve done it before, and they know how to keep doing it.

¡°My voice is my voice,¡± Sims says. ¡°I have my own cadence and delivery. I¡¯m just going to do what I do.

¡°I¡¯ve got 81 home games that really are home games.¡±

Jon Schwartz is the deputy editor of Yankees Magazine. This story appears in the April 2025 edition. Get more articles like this delivered to your doorstep by purchasing a subscription to Yankees Magazine at www.yankees.com/publications.