How Aaron Goldsmith went from accidental broadcaster to Mariners mainstay

June 04, 2024

It was an otherwise forgettable afternoon at the Oakland Coliseum on May 4 when Mariners broadcaster Aaron Goldsmith returned to the air following a commercial break.

Taylor Trammell leads it off for the Mariners here in the sixth inning. He has homered today …

This was not an edge-of-your seat kind of contest. The A’s and Mariners spent most of the afternoon plodding their way through a game that lacked any semblance of riveting action and excitement. So Goldsmith, as he is apt to do, took the radio broadcast in an entirely different direction.

“So today is a getaway day. Last day in the hotel in San Francisco. As I am packing, I thought of a good friend of ours Adam Gresch, who is on the trip, (working with) Mariners baseball information,” Goldsmith tells his audience.

“I was thinking of Adam because when we left Toronto, he left nine shirts in his (hotel) closet! (Laughs in the broadcast booth). Now … you might think, ‘Don’t you realize your bag is shy nine shirts?’”

The pitch to Trammell … he swings and hits a hard ground ball to first base … it’s taken there by Aguilar, who steps on the bag. One pitch and one out. Here comes Kolten Wong …

“Let’s just say Gresch is looking a little recycled here at the end of the road trip. Some can argue that leaving his wardrobe in Toronto is the best thing to happen to Adam this season,” Goldsmith said, just as Gresch walked into the broadcast booth, feigning outrage.

And with that, story time with Goldsmith is over — but only after 11 minutes. The inning ends quietly as the Mariners go on to win, 5-3. Gresch, thrown under the bus on live radio, just laughs. This is classic Goldsmith, spicing up a humdrum game by interjecting some levity and laughter. It’s not some diversionary tactic. He’s just being himself.

“I love the nitty gritty, nerdy baseball stuff … but the season is too long and there are too many broadcasts for just the nitty gritty baseball and strategy,” Goldsmith told The Athletic recently.

“We all generally like the same kind of stuff and find it humorous and we all like to laugh. So for me, calling a baseball game is the perfect blend of the two things I love the most: Talking about baseball and laughing.”

Goldsmith on the mic. (Courtesy of the Seattle Mariners)

Goldsmith, in his 11th season with the team, has made a name for himself in the Pacific Northwest with his self-deprecating humor (complete with an unmistakable, infectious laugh) as well as his knowledge of the game and easygoing, conversational style.

“He’s smart and relatable. But he’s serious and understands the moment,” said Mariners general manager Justin Hollander. “He can make you laugh and make you smile, whether the team is going great or things are a little rough. He’s an easy person to be connected to.”

There’s no way to completely quantify it, but it’s probably fair to say that Goldsmith, 39, has become one of the top broadcasters in baseball based not only on his work in Seattle, splitting time between television and radio, but also his work on national telecasts.

This offseason, the St. Louis Cardinals made a strong run at Goldsmith to fill their television announcer opening on Bally Sports Midwest. This was a plum gig; a great market for baseball, a more lucrative deal and, to top it all off, a return home for Goldsmith, who spent his childhood in St. Louis.

“Once it became clear the Cardinals’ job would be available, I knew I would be a candidate based on my experience, age and background. The strange thing was that I initially didn’t give it much thought,” Goldsmith said.

But that quickly changed. After formally interviewing for the job in January, Goldsmith was left to wrestle with a weighty decision for himself, wife Heather, and their three children: Is this what I want? Is this what we want?

BALLGAME. OVER. pic.twitter.com/ZOGWmMfpba

— Seattle Mariners (@Mariners) May 28, 2023

If you’ve come here wondering if Goldsmith grew up idolizing Cardinals’ broadcasters, hanging on the calls of Joe Buck, Mike Shannon and others, well, this isn’t that story.

“My path to broadcasting is the least romantic thing imaginable. You know how like a lot of guys know when they’re eight that they want to do this? It never entered my consciousness that someday it might be me,” Goldsmith said.

After high school, Goldsmith attended Principia College, a small liberal arts college in Illinois, about an hour from St. Louis. He studied history there and didn’t give broadcasting a thought until a month before graduation.

Unsure what he would do with a history degree, Goldsmith enrolled in a nine-month program at the Broadcast Center in St. Louis, where he learned about broadcast journalism. When he wasn’t in class, Goldsmith sold appliances.

At the behest of his advisor — “he wore me down,” Goldsmith said — he put together a demo tape for an internship with the Gateway Grizzlies, an independent baseball team in Sauget, Illinois. The gig paid $70 a month.

“I was stunned they were going to pay me. I remember when they offered me the job and told me they could offer $70 a month. I remember saying, ‘Are you serious?’ They thought I was offended,” Goldsmith said.

Upon starting his new job, Goldsmith immediately felt like he was in over his head.

“I had never critically listened to a broadcast. So I had no idea what to say,” Goldsmith said. “I knew I didn’t want to sound like everyone else. Finally, I decided that I’m going to figure this out or I won’t. I was either going to sink or swim based on who I am.”

In the summer of 2008, Goldsmith was hired to call games as a volunteer for the Bourne Braves of the Cape Cod League. He worked a landscaping gig on the side to make ends meet.

Goldsmith got what he considered his big break the following year when he was hired by the Portland Sea Dogs as a studio host/broadcaster for the Red Sox Double-A affiliate in Maine.

“I was still an intern, my third-straight seasonal intern, but I finally felt like I had hit the big time,” Goldsmith said. “I mean, we were on three stations in two states!”

Following that season, Goldsmith headed back to St. Louis. He lived with a friend while splitting his time as an assistant junior varsity basketball coach at a local high school and as a professional dog walker. He had been dating his future wife, Heather, for three years at that point. They had talked about marriage, but …

“I didn’t feel good about proposing as a professional dog walker and as an assistant JV basketball coach. So I told her that if I don’t get a full-time job broadcasting this winter I will take that as this isn’t for me,” Goldsmith said.

So Goldsmith got busy, flooding the market with demos and resumes. Only one team called him back: The Frisco RoughRiders, the Double-A affiliate of the Texas Rangers. They wanted to interview Goldsmith, but wouldn’t pay for his flight.

“I figured out a way to fly there and back the same day so that I would not have to miss two days of dog walking,” Goldsmith said. “I was in debt … I couldn’t afford to miss work.”

Goldsmith got the gig and spent two seasons in Frisco. The job paid him a handsome sum of $28,000 each season. “It felt like we were millionaires,” Goldsmith said, laughing. He finally felt he could propose to Heather.

After two years in Frisco, Goldsmith was on the move again. And this gig, he felt, was the big one. Before the 2012 season, Goldsmith was hired to call games for the Triple-A Pawtucket Red Sox. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill Triple-A job, though.

The Pawtucket broadcast job had been the launching pad for many sports broadcasters, including Don Orsillo (now with the Padres), Dave Flemming (Giants), Andy Freed (Rays), Dave Jageler (Nationals), Dan Hoard (Cincinnati Bengals) and Gary Cohen (Mets), among others.

“It was like we hit a home run 10 years earlier than we ever expected. We were over the moon,” said Goldsmith. “This was my big leagues.”

Three-thousand miles away in Seattle, the Mariners were still mourning the loss of legendary broadcaster Dave Niehaus, who died following the 2010 season. The club toyed with the idea of naming a full-time replacement for 2011, but ultimately landed on a rotation of broadcasters to work alongside Niehaus’ longtime partner, Rick Rizzs.

“In terms of trying to step into the shoes of David Niehaus, you’re stepping into the shoes of a legend,” said Randy Adamack, the team’s former vice president of communications. “So we decided to let some time pass.”

The Mariners did this for two seasons, 2011 and 2012. During that time, Goldsmith honed his craft in Frisco and then Pawtucket.

“If this (Mariners) job opens up the season after Dave’s passing, well, I’m not even applying for it. No chance I’ll get it,” Goldsmith said. “But those two years allowed me time to get better. I still wasn’t really good … but at least I got two more years in.”

When the Mariners’ job opened up after the 2012 season, Goldsmith threw his hat in the ring — with one caveat.

“When I applied, I told Heather that, ‘Yeah … like this isn’t happening. Let’s go apple picking or something this Saturday. We don’t need to worry about this thing I’m putting in the mail to Seattle,” Goldsmith said.

Some time passed, and Goldsmith thought nothing of the job. But one day, an email popped up in his inbox. It was from the Mariners.

“This isn’t what it said, but it’s my interpretation: We have divided up all of the applicants into two piles; those that we think stink and those we don’t think stink. So congratulations, you made it to the pile that doesn’t stink,” Goldsmith said.

It felt like the longest of longshots, Goldsmith said.

“First of all, because it got there. That I had the proper postage on it. And then, they actually put the CD in a CD player and listened to it? What are the odds of that happening?” he said. “Finally, that a big-league team didn’t think I stunk. I must have been doing something right. That was as close as I had gotten to professional elation.”

Goldsmith had only cleared one hurdle and there was no guarantee of even an interview. Still, this felt like an occasion worth celebrating. So Goldsmith and his wife headed for the nearest Applebee’s.

“I don’t stink,” Goldsmith said proudly. “Yeah, let’s get an Oreo milkshake. Maybe even a two-for-$20 dinner. That’s how good I was feeling about it.”

Soon thereafter, another email from the Mariners landed. He’d made a smaller pool of candidates. They wanted to set-up a phone call.

“And at that point, I became terrified. It was all fun and games before, but now they actually want to talk to me. It was this insane blend of fear and excitement because honestly, I thought I’d be exposed,” Goldsmith said. “I had very little confidence as a broadcaster. I thought I was a little smoke-and-mirrors and had more weaknesses than strengths. And I thought that that would be seen immediately.”

On a snowy day in Seattle, the Mariners arranged a call with several front office types on the line. Because people were stuck at home and had to phone in remotely, no one knew when it was their turn to talk.

“And so after all my answers there was just like a five seconds of silence,” Goldsmith said. “And every time I’m like, no, they’re gonna hang up. Like they’ve seen through it all. I think this is awful.”

What were the Mariners looking for?

“We were looking for a fresh voice,” Adamack said recently.

Goldsmith was invited to Seattle for an interview in January of 2013. There, he met with Rizzs, producer/engineer Kevin Cremin and many others. That night, Goldsmith and Adamack had dinner alone at Salty’s on Alki Beach.

“I was expecting him to say at any minute that, ‘Aaron, it has really been a treat. Maybe you’re our guy in 10 years,’” he said. “When I flew home, I told Heather that I really felt good about the next time I get a big-league interview. I felt that I handled myself pretty well.

“They brought in some guys (for interviews) with big-league experience. I felt pretty good about losing out to a guy with five, 10 years of big-league experience.”

Upon his return to Pawtucket, Goldsmith was working in his office at McCoy Stadium, when his phone rang. A ‘206’ area code flashed on Goldsmith’s phone. It was the Mariners.

Goldsmith stepped out of his office and found a quiet hallway. He sat down on the floor, wearing what he still describes as “horrible khaki pants.” That wasn’t nearly as important as what came next: He was offered the job.

Goldsmith gets the call from the Mariners to fill their open broadcasting position. (Courtesy of Aaron Goldsmith)

A few minutes later, Goldsmith ended up in the club’s parking lot, sitting in his Toyota Corolla, where he phoned his mother, Bonnie.

“I can tell you, one of my biggest regrets, and I still get very emotional when I talk about this, is that I would have recorded my (conversation) with my mom,” he said. “I called her from my car in the parking lot and told her I got the job. She just screamed. I wish I could always have that.”

Twenty-nine-year-old Aaron Goldsmith, the accidental broadcaster who never dreamed of such an opportunity, was a big-league broadcaster.

“It was clearly kind of a reach,” Adamack admits. “But the more we listened, the more we liked. It was his voice, his enthusiasm and cadence and rhythm. It was his description of the game. We thought this was the right call.”

That night, the Goldsmiths had reason to celebrate again. Nothing fancy like Applebee’s, but a certain Seattle-based coffee shop in Rhode Island, which they felt was appropriate for their upcoming move to the Pacific Northwest.

“I tell Randy every year that I would not have hired me,” Goldsmith said. “There is no way. I was not good. I was not experienced and so naïve. I was the poster child of all of those things. They took a big chance on me. I’ll never forget that.”

Goldsmith has grown into the job in Seattle and developed a strong following. Forget smoke-and-mirrors. There’s plenty of substance — and laughs — here.

“I’d say Aaron has two of the most important traits for a play-by-play guy in my opinion; it’s curiosity and feel,” said Gary Hill Jr., the club’s executive producer and engineer of his best friend. “He’s curious about the game, and is always asking questions of people in the organization and outside of it. I think the fan base is the beneficiary of that. He knows when to tell a story but he knows when to lock it in. He has that feel. Not every announcer has that.”

Gary Hill Jr. (left) and Goldsmith. (Courtesy of Gary Hill Jr.)

Along the way, Seattle began more and more to feel like home for Goldsmith and his family.

“It’s a weird thing in our line of work,” Goldsmith said. “I know .0001 percent of our audience. We just don’t interact with people. Yet when I’m on the air, I feel like I know all of them. I feel like I’m talking to the same people every night. There’s a calm, peace and a familiarity that I have because of that. Hopefully, listeners feel that way about me.”

Many certainly do.

“If Goldy did leave it would’ve greatly hurt my watching experience. I would obviously still follow the team, but Goldy is really what I associate TV broadcasts with the Mariners,” said listener Paul McMillan, 34, from Bremerton.

Late last year, well into the offseason, Goldsmith heard the Cardinals’ lead television job was open. He was intrigued by the possibility of returning to where he grew up.

“I can be two things at once. I can be interested in the Cardinals job, and I can also be very happy here,” Goldsmith said. “I really wanted to be really upfront with them (Cardinals) about that.”

Feeling he owed it to himself to at least interview, Goldsmith flew to St. Louis in mid-January to meet with team officials and those with Bally Sports Midwest.

“When I got on the plane and flew back home, the whole flight I just thought about where I saw myself and saw my family living the next 30-plus years,” Goldsmith said. “And it scared me that I did not have an immediate answer to that. I wondered, ‘Why am I not red-hot about this job?’”

One night, Goldsmith and his wife were sitting on their couch, their kids — Jackson, 8, Hadley, 6 and Hudson, 3 — fast asleep. They started talking about the job.

“Then came the life conversations and where is our home,” Goldsmith said. “What defines home for our family? And what brings us happiness … What brings us joy and satisfaction? What is it that makes us feel fulfilled when we put our head on the pillow at night.”

Finally, it dawned on him. The answer was right under his nose all along.

“What I quickly discovered is that I had found my home. This (Seattle) has become my home. It is all my children know. When I think of home, this is where I feel the most comfortable and at the most peace,” Goldsmith said.

“We could have had a very nice home in St. Louis, sent our kids to private school and driven nice cars and all that stuff. But I never wanted to tell my children that I moved them halfway across the country because of ego or money. I can’t think of two worse reasons to make a decision on anything.”

On a Saturday morning, a week removed from his interview, Goldsmith walked into his home office and made a call to the Cardinals to officially withdraw his name from consideration for the job.

“I kept going back to that solid ground of what brings me happiness, what brings us happiness. What do we need to live a life of joy and fulfillment? And we had that here. It’s proven. It’s been tested. It’s rock solid. We have what we need, and we’re happy with it,” Goldsmith said.

“We didn’t need to uproot ourselves to go find more of it.”

Goldsmith, who had previously done national broadcasts for FOX, FS1 and the Pac-12 Network, also decided this winter that he’s done pursuing more national work. A part of that decision stems from having to watch Cal Raleigh’s postseason-clinching home run last September at 1:30 a.m. ET on his iPad in a hotel room in Atlanta. Watching the players celebrating on the field, and with the ballpark rocking, Goldsmith had but one thought.

“What the heck am I doing here (Atlanta), man?” Goldsmith said. “My heart is here (Seattle).”

Hill, who grew up in Tacoma and was one of those kids who listened to Niehaus call games on the radio at night as a kid, believes his friend will one day join the pantheon of vaunted Seattle broadcasters who have called games in this city.

“We are so lucky in the Pacific Northwest, not only with Dave (Niehaus) but Rick (Rizzs) and Dave (Sims) but also Bob Rondeau, Bob Robertson, Pete Gross, Steve Raible, Kevin Calabro, Bob Blackburn and others,” Hill said.

“As a kid, listening to a lot of those guys, I didn’t quite realize their greatness until I got older. I truly believe that Aaron’s going to be among those greats when it is all said and done. He’s going to be an all-time great in Seattle.”

(Top photo courtesy of the Seattle Mariners)

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