Greg Sharpe passed away yesterday, sadly, ironically, on Valentine’s Day. So many loved him, beyond family and friends. When you’re the voice of Husker football and baseball that’s what happens. He had a host of loving friends whom he didn’t know and who didn’t know him.
I’m somewhere in the middle, which is why I’m writing this. It’ll be short, not only because this could probably go on, page after page, with positive things to say about Greg, but also because tapping the correct keys isn’t easy right now. And again I’m only on the periphery. I didn’t socialize with Greg, I only saw him at Memorial Stadium, Haymarket Park and news conferences.
And, of course, I heard him on the radio, like so many others.
Listening to some of the broadcast of the Nebraska baseball opener against UC Irvine Friday, my mind processed Greg’s voice. No disrespect to Nick Handley. But I could hear Greg’s voice.
When Greg stopped to say hi, he always drew several others. He was always positive, upbeat, even as he lost weight and wore one arm in a sling. He always had a smile. Talking to him and watching him, you were convinced at some point he would be back in the broadcast booth, now named for him.
He was truly one of the good guys—it’s difficult to type “was,” to write this in the past tense.
Over a much too short 17 years on Husker broadcasts, Greg became the Lyell Bremser of this era. Lyell would be happy to know that. He would have hit it off with Greg.
I remember once, my wife and I talked with Greg in the parking lot at Haymarket Park, briefly, long after the Huskers were done playing. That lone encounter has made my wife emotional about this, too. That’s how quickly he made a positive impression. He was so, so nice.
He was only 61. I can say “only” because of my age. Yet he accomplished so much, earned such respect. As I said, he was the “Voice of Husker football,” the “Voice of Husker baseball.”
And so much more.
An Emily Dickinson poem begins:
“Because I could not stop for Death
“He kindly stopped for Me
“The carriage held but just Ourselves
“And Immortality.”
Rest in peace, my friend. I’m speaking for all of us.
Hopefully, we’ll all meet again someday.
Mike Babcock
