Peter King wrote the following about Howie in his Monday Morning NFL column on CNN/SI: Local boy makes good. There was a no-hitter in New York Friday night. Johan Santana pitched the first no-hitter in the 51-year history of the Mets. Which is a crazy-enough story, that a team with so many good pitchers over the years never had a no-hitter until its 8,020th game, while the rest of baseball had 131 of them. But having lived in the New York area for 24 of the last 27 years, the first guy I thought of as I listened to the end of the game on the radio was the guy delivering the radio call -- in part because his called dripped emotion and excitement, in part because I knew what it meant to a kid born in Brooklyn, raised in Queens, and educated in high school in Bayside, Queens, and in college at Queens College. "Santana steps behind the rubber, tugs once at the bill of his cap, takes a deep breath and steps to the third-base side of the rubber ... '' When Howie Rose was 8, in 1962, he remembers asking his parents excitedly the morning after the first Mets game in history, "How'd the Mets do last night?'' They'd lost. But as an 8-year-old, he felt the team had been created just for him. He followed them daily. Couldn't get enough of the lovable losers. When he was 15, he was in Shea Stadium the night Tom Seaver took a no-hitter into the ninth inning. With one out, Jimmy Qualls broke it up. Howie was crushed. Two other times Seaver lost no-nos in the ninth as a Met, and he didn't pitch one until he'd been exiled to Cincinnati. But still Howie Rose listened, and watched. While he was a wagon boy at the Waldbaum's supermarket, walking through the parking lot to gather the shopping carts with a transistor tuned to the games, while he played stickball in the playgrounds at school. When he was 12, he started wondering what it would be like to be behind the mike like the men he listened to every day, Bob Murphy on radio and Lindsay Nelson on TV. "My friends would fantasize about hitting the game-winning homer,'' Rose said to me Saturday. "I would fantasize about calling the game-winning homer." For the Mets. "Santana into the windup, the payoff pitch is on the way ..." "We have been bred with this inevitably,'' said Rose, meaning that no-hitters don't happen. So even in the ninth, he figured something would go wrong, particularly with Santana pitching to the meat of the Cardinals order. In addition, he didn't have time to be introspective, though a day earlier he'd had a great career highlight: He had given the commencement address at his alma mater, Queens College. "The odds were always stacked against me, the same as they must have been against you,'' he told me. "There's tremendous competition in the sports media. But when I was in high school, in college, I just thought, wouldn't it be great to be a broadcaster? Then I thought, wouldn't it be great to be a baseball broadcaster? Then, a broadcaster for the Mets? I had those dreams. And that's what I talked about Queens College: I told the kids you should never, ever, ever let anyone dissuade you from following your dreams. And now, here I was, in the ninth inning, with this seminal moment in Mets history on the line. Mind-boggling. Isn't it unbelievable how that happened?'' And so here was David Freese, the World Series hero from last fall, one strike away from being Santana's 27th out, and Rose wanted to be sure he wasn't too calculating or too rehearsed. Just tell the story. "Swung on and missed! Strike three! He's done it! Johan Santana has pitched a no-hitter in the eight thousand and twentieth game in the history of the New York Mets! They finally have a no-hitter, and who better to do it than Johan Santana! What a remarkable story! ... " "I felt a nanosecond of utter disbelief,'' Rose said. "I took one breath, saw them streaming out of the dugout, and the bullpen. It means plenty to me, because I've followed them for so long. But forget about me. The only thing I disciplined myself to do was try to stay under control. I just thought, describe, describe, describe, the scene on the mound, the scene in the stands. The call ... I thought about my stamping it with the date and the time. The great Vin Scully stamped Sandy Koufax's, but no one will ever be as lyrical as Vin Scully. That's his.'' "His teammates are mobbing him at the mound. The players in the bullpen are trotting in. A surreal feeling at CitiField! The first no-hitter in the history of the New York Mets!'' "There are very few days where I don't flash back to being in the ballpark in 1969,'' he said. "I'm unbelievably appreciative to have this job. When people tell me I'm this generation's Bob Murphy, I am just overcome by it. To whatever end a broadcaster can be considered part of the team, and part of Mets history in any small way because of this moment, I am very emotional about that.'' After the game, and after the long postgame show, maybe 90 minutes after the last out, Rose walked into the Mets clubhouse to see if Santana was still there. He was. He walked up to Santana and hugged him. "I never cry on the air,'' Rose said, "but tonight I came really, really close." "Did you cry?'' Santana asked. "No, I disciplined myself,'' Rose said, and asked Santana to sign his scoresheet for the game. And that's the story of a guy doing what he should be doing in life. *** Read more: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2012/writers/peter_king/06/03/mmqb/index.html#ixzz1wpp7Hga8