23-02-2025
Hockey nights in Pittsburgh will always belong to legendary broadcaster Mike Lange
PITTSBURGH — All around PPG Paints Arena on Saturday afternoon there were signs of the respect Mike Lange commanded.
Commemorative stickers on the black clothing worn by Penguins personnel. His most famous goal calls on posters held by fans. Pictures and videos on the video boards between breaks. A couple of makeshift memorials. Tears during a pregame ceremony featuring Lange's two sons and their families, some of his former broadcast partners, and the Penguins' famous Big Three of Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang.
Pittsburgh 💛's Mikey.
— Pittsburgh Penguins (@penguins) February 22, 2025
And fittingly, as if equal parts a nod to one of Lange's most-quoted goal calls and his first 15 seasons calling games for a woeful franchise, Penguins goalies spent the day being beaten 'like a rented mule.'
The only thing missing was Mario Lemieux, and that was by request.
Lemieux was in the building — that itself a rare occasion these days — but asked to remain in the shadows. He didn't want to take away any of the moments that honored his late friend.
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Lange, who died Wednesday, hadn't called a Penguins game since the 2021 Stanley Cup playoffs. But if the past few days, especially Saturday, proved anything, it was that Lange cast an everlasting shadow over a city and its hockey team.
The voice of Penguins hockey for nearly 50 years, Lange was more than an influential and beloved play-by-play announcer with a flare for the dramatic. He was the first person that made the Penguins cool in Pittsburgh — and you didn't need to be there from the start to believe it.
Some things are bigger than hockey. Thanks for everything, Mike Lange 💛
— Pittsburgh Penguins (@penguins) February 22, 2025
However, when Lange arrived in Pittsburgh in 1974, nobody, least of all himself, would have believed he'd become as synonymous with the Penguins as their greatest players.
It's a step too far to say Lange kept the Penguins going long enough for Lemieux to arrive 10 years later and save the franchise, only for Crosby to resuscitate it two decades after that. He did keep the franchise relevant until 'Super Mario' and 'Sid the Kid' took turns transforming it from beleaguered and bankrupt into a five-time Cup champion.
Calling games for KDKA-AM, a historic radio station with a powerhouse signal, Lange landed in Pittsburgh after Roberto Clemente's death and Franco Harris' 'Immaculate Reception,' arriving with little-to-no fanfare for a franchise that felt like an outcast. The Penguins had nothing comparable to offer and didn't even wear Pittsburgh's black and gold colors the first time 'heeeeeee shoots and scores' echoed out of radios in and beyond Western Pennsylvania.
Lange was the heartbeat of hockey until Lemieux became the heart and Crosby the soul of the Penguins. He was the reason to listen until those icons became the reason to watch.
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The broadcasting gods blessed Lange with gifts similar to the ones the hockey gods bestowed upon Lemieux and Crosby. All three men had eagle eyes, preternatural instincts, and — to borrow from a Lange goal call — 'more moves than Mae West.'
Picture a prime Lemieux weaving through opposition skaters before embarrassing a goalie. Think of Crosby churning out of a corner and dragging defenders before dishing a puck to an open teammate.
Hearing Lange was the equivalent.
His goal calls are as iconic as the unforgettable moments of Lemieux and Crosby, not to mention Malkin and Jaromir Jagr. But Lange was more than a collection of highlights, rather he was a soundtrack to the best and worst of a star-crossed franchise that captured his heart as completely as he held the attention of its fans.
He was distinct, definitive, and defiant.
Who dares Lord Stanley to 'give me the brandy' within seconds of the Penguins' winning the Cup? Who describes a goalie as having his pocket picked 'like he was walking down Fifth Avenue'? Who gets away with turning Turtle Creek into 'Turtle Crick' to rhyme it with 'Arnold Slick'? Who nicks 'Elvis has just left the building' to sign off on regular-season victories only to swap 'Elvis' with 'the New York Rangers' at the end of arguably the Penguins' most emotional postseason series?
Only a fearless, unapologetic original.
At the end of his legendary run, Lange, a chain smoker, had switched from cigarettes to vapes. Between periods, he'd leave the radio booth and find a place in every arena where he could take a hit — the nicotine somehow adding a sweetness to his voice.
His hideout at the old Civic Arena, affectionately known as The Igloo, was a small room with a small crack in the steel-domed roof. When the Penguins moved to their current arena, Lange needed a new spot where anybody who might see him would look the other way.
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He found it on the catwalk. Perched from PPG Paints Arena's highest spot, he'd create clouds while looking down upon the latest Penguins generation of fans and players — none of whom may have existed without him.
That catwalk is from where the Penguins' five championship banners and three retired numbers hang, and that's the company Lange deserves to keep.
