The Voice of the Penguins: Remembering Mike Lange

Mike Lange, who spent 46 years behind the mic for the Pittsburgh Penguins as one of the most unique broadcasters in professional sports – known for his colorful, creative style and trademark sayings – died on Wednesday. He was 76.

“Mike Lange is the voice of the Pittsburgh Penguins,” said Phil Bourque, who was his longtime partner in the booth, after his retirement in 2021. “When it comes to his legacy, Mikey is the one that's called the final call for all five (Stanley) Cups. It doesn't matter who has ever broadcast before and who will broadcast in the future: Mike Lange is the voice of the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

Lange took his place on the city’s Mount Rushmore of sports broadcasters for his impact on the hockey club, which began with him taking the team through rough times in their early years. Lange got the people of Pittsburgh invested with his talent and originality, and became incredibly popular around town.

As the Penguins became blessed with some of the greatest to ever play, Lange translated their on-ice magic to the fans who adored him. The Hockey Hall of Fame recognized Lange with their Foster Hewitt Memorial Award, for members of the industry who made outstanding contributions to their profession.

“Mike was a Penguins legend and one of the most important figures in franchise history,” said Mario Lemieux. “It was my honor to have him call virtually every goal in my career and play a key role in all five of our Stanley Cup championships. Mike was a one-of-a-kind broadcaster, a tremendous ambassador for the city of Pittsburgh, and most importantly, a great friend. He will be missed.”

Bourque, who played for the Penguins from 1983-92, always regretted not getting to know Lange better during those days. “He was always good to me, we always had pleasant interactions,” Bourque said. “But I didn't really know much about him, and now that I know his story, I wish I had known it 30 years ago.”

It began out West, growing up as a fifth-generation Californian and baseball fan in the northern part of his home state. Lange always loved listening to Bill King, legendary voice of the MLB’s Oakland Athletics who also called games for the Oakland/Los Angeles Raiders and the San Francisco/Golden State Warriors. Lange knew when he was just 9 years old that not only did he want to be an announcer, like King, he wanted to use, as he put it, “a phrase or two” during his calls.

Hockey, however, was a sport Lange wasn’t initially familiar with. But some cajoling from his friend Len Shapiro led to Lange becoming synonymous with the game. Both broadcasting majors at Sacramento State University, Shapiro was working with the local ice hockey association. He asked Lange to attend a game with him, and possibly work it.

“Red line, blue line, I know nothing,” Lange said.

“Come anyway,” Shapiro responded. “You never know.”

As fate would have it, Lange ended up becoming the penalty timekeeper alongside the PA announcer, who wanted a raise from $5 to $10 per game for the following season. The league, a small one with minimal means, approached Lange and asked if he’d do the job at the less expensive rate. After quickly doing the math, and realizing he’d have enough money for a Shakey’s pizza and a pitcher of beer with some cash left over, Lange enthusiastically accepted.

He convinced his college advisor to broadcast the playoff games over the college radio station and called them, took the tapes, and mailed a bunch to various sports, leagues, and teams. The only response Lange received came from the Phoenix Roadrunners of the Western Hockey League, saying that while nothing was open at the moment, they enjoyed his work.

Lange took a leap of faith and moved to Arizona anyway. Legendary Phoenix Suns broadcaster Al McCoy, then the Roadrunners’ play-by-play man, took Lange under his wing and allowed him to do color commentary. With the help of McCoy, the players, and the coaches, Lange learned the intricacies of the game and honed his craft. He parlayed that into a gig back home in California as the play-by-play voice for the WHL’s San Diego Gulls before the league folded. Once again, Lange sent out his work – and once again, fate intervened.

After Pittsburgh station KDKA received Lange’s letter, his relationship with the Penguins began, as the team was looking for an announcer. He was one of three finalists for the gig alongside Mike ‘Doc’ Emrick. While Emrick also went on to become a Hall of Fame broadcaster, he harbored no hard feelings about the decision. “I’ve said it often – they got the right guy,” Emrick chuckled.

“He was relatable,” Emrick continued. “Pittsburgh is a wonderful city I always felt was a collection of neighborhoods, and he seemed to have a way of relating to all of that. It was a style that people really liked.”

While Emrick had some familiarity with the place, Lange really didn’t know what he was coming into as far as a market. But, as he once grinned, “I walk in and Bob Prince is here, I walk in and Myron Cope is here… they were significantly different types of broadcasters. And now, I arrive on the scene. So, I was in the right place.”

Lange broke into the NHL during the 1974-75 season at just 26 years old, calling games for a fledgling franchise that had some exciting talent on the ice, but financial troubles off the ice. They filed for bankruptcy, which led to Lange being sidelined for the following season. Fortunately, he returned in 1976, and this time, remained in Pittsburgh for good. He did radio exclusively by himself in the booth until 1979, when games were simulcast on radio and TV.

A bit of an old soul who was both charismatic and eccentric, Lange quickly found a groove as the Penguins tried to find their footing following 1967’s expansion. With his ability to use the tones, texture and volume in his voice to build anticipation, he’d bring people to the edge of their seats before delivering calls that would have them jumping to their feet.

Paul Steigerwald, a student at Kent State University during Lange’s first years on the job, remembers becoming invested because of him. “My buddies and I were really enthralled with Mike Lange and the way he called games,” Steigerwald said.

After years of trying to sell the game and attract fans into the building – “you’d have to be here to believe it!” he often cried – Lange had the honor of calling the entirety of Mario Lemieux’s career after the greatest pure goal scorer in the history of the game got drafted first overall by the Penguins in 1984.

It was rewarding for Lange to watch No. 66 lead the franchise to its first Stanley Cup in 1991 after all of its challenges, and Lemieux’s goal in Game 1 of the 1992 Stanley Cup Final against Chicago always ranked as the most memorable goal he ever called.

Though Lange always prided himself on having concentration, focus and a feel for the game, striking the right balance between professionalism and excitement, he joked that his voice might have failed him if he’d needed to call another tally. That’s how much the moment affected him.

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing when you have a moment like that. To see a comeback and to see a victory and to see the player that did it all come your way at the same time, it’ll make you smile like a butcher’s dog,” Lange said, with a smile of his own.

The great McCoy served as another inspiration for Lange’s sayings, which he sprinkled into early broadcasts. Some were his own, and others came from the people of Pittsburgh. “Buy Sam a Drink and Get His Dog One Too” was overheard from a bartender; a bookmaker came up with “get in the fast lane, Grandma, the bingo game is ready to roll”; while “Scratch My Back with a Hacksaw” was suggested by a mall security guard.

Fans caught onto the phrases and loved them, approaching Lange around what he called “a town of characters” with their submissions in hopes they’d make the broadcasts. It got to the point where Lange adopted a rule that folks had to write down their submissions, which he kept in a shoebox, and he’d take them under advisement. Even Jaromir Jagr himself got in on it!

Lange sat next to the future Hall of Famer on the team bus early in his career, helping the young, homesick phenom feel comfortable and understood. Eventually, Jagr asked if he could give Lange a saying to use on the air after workshopping it for some time, which ended up being, “he smoked him like a bad cigar!”

They helped keep things interesting during the lean years, before Lemieux and Jagr turned the phrases into legitimate expressions of disbelief, as those players were just so skilled that Lange and the fans would just blurt out whatever popped into their minds.

Lange often credited the players for his success, and expressed his gratitude for the opportunity to call their games. But for their part, they understood how fortunate they were to have someone like Lange narrating their accomplishments, and he had their utmost respect for his ability and his character. Jagr even made sure to acknowledge him during his recent jersey retirement ceremony.

Lange served as the television voice of the Penguins through 2005-06, before returning to the radio booth in 2006-07, which was the first season of the team’s 16-year playoff streak. He called games alongside Bourque for the entirety of that run. No NHL team was more dominant over that stretch, and they were fortunate to have a Hall of Famer providing the soundtrack.

“Mike made such an impact on the Penguins franchise, and me personally as a player,” Sidney Crosby said. “He welcomed me to Pittsburgh. It was the little things, like words of encouragement at my stall after the media had left, a fist bump to acknowledge a big game or a wink for a special moment. He was so special and I am honored to have called Mike my friend.”

His signature calls are what Bourque missed the most when Lange retired in 2021.

“Sometimes they would take a while to unravel, and I had the luxury to kind of just sit there and soak it in and watch him,” Bourque said. “And at times, he would have his eyes closed, and he's just looking up to the heavens, and is like, ‘heeeeee shoots and scoresssss."’ I have the visual of him. His eyes are closed, his fists are clenched, he's got those big 1970s headphones on. And he's just going, ‘Heeeeee shoots and scoresssss.’ I just sit there. I just soak it in. It feels like it takes about three minutes for him to make the call, and it's all of like seven seconds.”

Lange likened games on radio to creating a book, which always began with him saying, “it’s a hockey night in Pittsburgh!” From there, no one knew where it was going to go, and Lange loved that he got to build chapter after chapter before Elvis left the building. What made the book better, Lange always said, was anticipation. His broadcasting partners agree that was always Lange’s biggest strength, marveling at his feel for what was going to happen before it happened, especially as someone who never laced up the skates himself or even watched the game until college.

Bourque also missed the camaraderie that came with being Lange’s partner and friend. While Lange was a private man who kept things close to the vest, he would do anything for the people he cared about and make them laugh along the way – always signing off on emails and texts with some variation of “keep smilin’ like a butcher’s dog.”

Whether it was in the booth, the press box, the back of the plane or bus, or over the phone, Lange would use that raspy voice and deep chuckle to tease, tell stories and jokes, take the edge off, and complain good-naturedly (especially if he got a room at the end of the hallway, lugging his suitcase missing a wheel he dubbed ‘the Three-Legged Dog’). Once, after playfully chastising a Penguins staffer for taking the last banana after getting to the team hotel, Lange unexpectedly popped up from behind a table on another trip with two bananas in each hand like they were guns. “Stick ‘em up!” he cackled.

During his years on the road, Lange put together a book he dubbed “Blues and Booze,” keeping a record of places he could get a bite to eat or go listen to music. Lange once said he wanted to do everything he could to try and get the blues in front of people, “because it's such a valuable part of our history. That’s kind of what keeps you going a little bit, along with companionship and friendship and a lot of laughs and a lot of good hockey games to call.”

The memory that resonated the most with Lange in his nearly five decades with the team came during the tribute for the late Bob “Badger” Johnson. The man who had a legendary catchphrase of his own – “it’s a great day for hockey!” – died of a brain tumor in the summer of 1991 after leading Pittsburgh to its first Stanley Cup in his only year as head coach.

That night was a reminder for Lange that your greatest legacy will be based on how you treated other people, and by God, was he good to those around him. Particularly in the latter stages of his career, as Lange embraced his status as somewhat of a father figure and someone for others to lean on. He offered up sound advice – both professionally and personally – in a subtle way, along with support and praise that left a remarkable impact on those who received it. Especially since there are so many people who got into the broadcasting business due to Lange's influence, and everyone around the team knew what an icon he was.

“I was so intimidated by him because of who he was,” said Josh Getzoff, who began filling in for Lange before taking over upon his retirement. “You could see how revered he was. But from start to finish, he was always eager to help. He never said no. He always responded, and I actually felt like he went out of his way a lot of times.”

And as for the people of this city – they revered Mike Lange. He understood them, and they understood him. He once said it’s not the Cups or individual magic on the ice that would stick with him forever. “I think, God, was I lucky to get to know some of these great people. God, was this whole town lucky.”

But we were the lucky ones.