Mike Lange's passing has sent shockwaves throughout the Pittsburgh community, and perhaps no group is more impacted by the loss than Lange's fellow Pittsburgh sportscasters.
Broadcasters like Josh Getzoff, Phil Bourque, and even Pirates broadcaster Greg Brown have all expressed their appreciation for Lange's impact not just on their broadcasting career, but also on their lives as a kind human being whose goal in life was to make them smile.
Mikey, thank you. For everything. The legendary calls, the jokes, the messages, the advice, the guidance and, most importantly, the friendship.
— Josh Getzoff (@JG_PxP) February 20, 2025
The Hall of Famer!
Love ya. Miss ya. Our hockey world will never quite be the same without ya. ⚫️🟡 pic.twitter.com/wvipHSnBXi
But there was another young broadcaster who was unknowingly being shaped by Mike Lange's generational broadcasting prowess - one whom Lange never met nor spoke with.
It was me.
My Penguins fandom began in 2008 when they lost in the Stanley Cup Final to the Detroit Red Wings. Before that year I had already begun watching the Pirates on television as early as 2005.
Lange's final season as the Penguins' TV broadcaster was in 2005, so there's a slight chance I watched a game he called, although I can't verify that. However, that's not to say I never heard Lange as a kid.
In our basement I would play floor hockey with my dad, and he would always live call the games we were playing, making sure to emphasize, "Heeeeeeeeee shoots and scores! You'd have to be here to believe it!" any time he got one past me (which was rather rare).
Mike Lange's voice was imbued in my dad from his childhood watching Mario Lemieux and Jaromir Jagr, and, subsequently, it was beginning to marinate in me without me ever consciously listening to him.
Just after the Penguins won the Stanley Cup in 2009, my family moved from Meadville, PA (just north of Pittsburgh) to North Carolina. In an age where regional broadcasts were the only option to watch regular season Penguins games, my newfound love of hockey went dormant.
It wasn't my choice that I stopped watching hockey. I just couldn't. However, this was still the age of radio, and my, how different I might have been without Mike Lange.
Somehow my dad always knew how to get Penguins games on the radio when we were in the car. Long car rides home from baseball tournaments or even just short commutes home from Wednesday church were often smattered with Lange's raspy voice.
In those moments my hockey fandom had taken a back seat to baseball, which I had started to take very seriously, but something still lingered in my mind listening to Penguins games.
My dad would often sit in silence after a Penguins goal, then immediately just ooze with excitement at how good Lange's calls were, making sure to quickly address me and help me realize how good Lange was and why.
Move ahead to the back-to-back Cup runs in 2016 and 2017 and I heard plenty more of Lange. While games were accessible on television for the playoffs, drives to and from baseball practice had Lange calling the final two of all five Penguins Stanley Cups with Doc Emrick waiting on the TV when I got home. (Think about that. All five Cups Lange called. Amazing.)
By this point I'm neck deep in sports. I was playing baseball at a high level, soccer was my fall commitment, and golf was my non-competitive sports outlet. My Steelers and Penguins fandoms were also completely fleshed out.
Yet I had told myself one thing: I never wanted to be a broadcaster.
In a round-about way, Mike Lange scared me from becoming a broadcaster. His vocabulary was vast, and he was so fluid with his words, so quick, so articulate that I knew I had no chance to ever do what he was doing.
And I was right. I was never going to come close to Mike Lange.
I sent out a tweet around the 2017 Stanley Cup victory saying simply, "I never want to be a broadcaster lol". I deleted that tweet about a year ago for a few reasons, but I wish I'd kept it...because I was so wrong about myself.
While Lange was scaring me off from wanting to become a broadcaster, he was simultaneously teaching me how to become one. Me, being an auditory learner and an impressionist, was subconsciously taking notes while listening to him.
Fast forward to the first week of my junior year of college and I'm watching some friends play NHL 14 on XBOX. By now, despite my mindset and tweet from six years prior, I have began my broadcasting career. It wasn't fully realized, but it had begun.
As my one friend, who is also a Penguins fan, barreled in and scored a goal with Brooks Orpik, I yelled, "Heeeeeeeeeee shoots and scores!" much to the chagrin of my friend playing as the Carolina Hurricanes.
I preceded to call the rest of the game. Technically, it was my first ever hockey broadcast. My audience was my three friends in the room and the guy next door who filed a noise complaint, citing that I woke him up while he was trying to sleep.
Dude, it was the first week of class at 10pm on a Friday. Brooks Orpik just scored to make it 2-1 Penguins. Get a life, bud. Sleep is temporary. NHL 14 is forever.
Two years later (now), I'm a professional broadcaster for a baseball team with a hopeful future ahead of me in the industry. Good voices shaped my beginnings, and Lange, perhaps, was the most impactful.
When you listen to Mike Lange, especially if you're an older Penguins fan that listened to him in the days of Lemieux and Jagr, you realize that he never changed in nearly half a century of calling games.
Lange was unashamed of who he was. His brand was what made him iconic, yet with his kindness and humility, I doubt he ever thought about that - he just kept being himself. In doing so, he stood the test of time, transcending not one, not two, but nearly three generations of Penguins fans.
Lange fashioned my career as a broadcaster in the short amount of time I had with him. I won't pretend like I listened to all 47 years of his calls. I was alive for less than half of them, in fact. But his values carried over the airwaves and permeated me.
He taught me how to be decisive, colorful, and purposeful with words. He painted a picture that you couldn't help but imagine in 4KHD, even when you were only listening on the radio.
He transported you from your couch, car, or garage to The Igloo, where it was "A Hockey Night in Pittsburgh".
And when the black and gold finished the job a the end of 60 minutes or maybe more, you'd be well aware that "Elvis...has just...left...the building".
Thank you, Mr. Lange. For inspiring a young buck like me, even when I thought nothing of it.
Pittsburgh will miss you dearly.
- Sincerely, Zane.