DENVER • If the door to the TV booth at Dodger Stadium was open, Jerry Schemmel walked right in. He knew the reception awaiting.

Only Schemmel’s siblings call him “Jer”… and Vin. Vin Scully called him Jer.

“Every time I saw him, he acted like I was his long-lost friend,” said Schemmel, who for years served as the voice of the Rockies and Nuggets. “And he did that with everybody.”

Imagine standing in a concessions line at Coors Field, and baseball’s voice orders lunch behind you — unmistakable as it was incomparable. Turn around, and there was Vin Scully.

“I’ll never forget that voice placing his order,” said Troy Renck, the longtime Rockies writer and current sportscaster at Denver7. “It was like a poet laureate ordering a turkey sandwich.”

I surveyed a bunch of Denver broadcasters and local sports media on Wednesday, the day after Scully passed away at the age of 94. The Dodgers broadcaster of 67 years — an unfathomable career, really — crossed paths often with Rockies media as flatmates in the National League West. All admired Scully and some knew him quite well, like AT&T SportsNet host and play-by-play announcer Jenny Cavnar.

“I loved how he remembered everyone’s name and something about them,” Cavnar said. “And he would ask you about it every time he saw you. It was almost like a Rolodex for him.”

Others simply admired Scully’s easy delivery on the call. Or his knowledge. Or his conversational storytelling that, somehow, always seemed to fit inside the same at-bat. Or they marveled at the breadth of a career that stretched from Jackie Robinson (“Did I ever tell you about the time Jackie and I raced on ice skates?”) to many of the current Dodgers leading the NL West. 

Altitude TV’s Marc Moser framed it this way: The final survivor of the Civil War lived until 1956. That particular individual could have listened to Scully carry the Brooklyn Dodgers to bat, just as you and I heard him illustrate Clayton Kershaw’s curveball into our living rooms.

“You won’t find many arguments,” said Moser, the play-by-play voice of the Avalanche on Altitude TV. “Vin Scully was the best who ever did it.”

In Denver sports talk radio, for me, that would be Sandy Clough. Clough’s own career got its start alongside Hall of Fame sportscaster Bob Wolff, a New York broadcast legend for 75 years.

“Bob Wolff would always tell me: ‘There’s no such thing as the best announcer,’” Clough said. “Maybe you could say Keith Jackson was the best on college football, but maybe he’s not the best on golf or basketball. But one example he did not give was Vin Scully. Scully did golf and football and was superb at all of them. He even did quiz shows (on NBC) and was good at that.”

Clough has a particular appreciation for Scully in the biggest moments — such as Hank Aaron’s record-setting home run, a masterpiece of TV theater — and how the broadcaster “would step aside and let the moment breathe.”

“He let the crowd carry the moment,” Clough said.

True baseball fanatics adored Scully the most.

“For a kid of the ’80s, I can’t think of Mookie Wilson’s soft grounder through Buckner’s legs, or Kirk Gibson hobbling around the bases pumping his fists, without hearing the voice of Vin Scully. But it was so much more than that,” Altitude Sports afternoon radio host Nate Kreckman said. “It was the poetic description of a routine 6-4-3 double play that was at once so simple yet so beautiful. As a baseball junkie and a rock ‘n’ roll geek — I can honestly say Vin Scully was one of the finest lyricists of our time. And it was all off the top of his head.”

Scully called four decades of Dodgers ball before the Colorado Rockies were even a thing. In September 2016, the Rockies gave Scully a retirement gift. Walt Weiss, Nolan Arenado, Charlie Blackmon, Trevor Story, DJ LaMahieu and other Rockies employees autographed the “LAD” placard from the out-of-town scoreboard in right field. Weiss was the shortstop for the Oakland A’s when Scully called Kirk Gibson’s 1988 World Series home run: “She. Is. Gone!”

I heard that call from the end of my parents’ bed on a family weekend in New Mexico. They let me stay up late to watch the game. Is that why I’m doing this now? Why do we remember those things? Memories of “the best who’s ever done it” washed over millions of Scully fans.

“He was as cool as they get. He always had that powder-blue jacket hanging up in the booth, dressed to the nines,” Cavnar said. “He exuded warmth. Not stuffiness, but warmth. He was a kind, God-loving, sports-loving gentleman. And that never changed each time I got to see him.”

With the Rockies playing in San Diego this week, Jenny made it a family trip. She and husband Steve took the kids to the beach on Wednesday. Their oldest soon will turn 5. His name is Vin.