Jim Robson: A Tribute
Iconic Vancouver broadcaster Jim Robson passed away Monday. His Hall of Fame career began in the early fifties and included a decade-long stint at The Nat doing Mounties play-by-play. Robson would go on to call PCL Canadians games over the years even as his hockey prominence grew. He will be
Iconic Vancouver broadcaster Jim Robson passed away Monday. His Hall of Fame career began in the early fifties and included a decade-long stint at The Nat doing Mounties play-by-play. Robson would go on to call PCL Canadians games over the years even as his hockey prominence grew. He will be sorely, sorely missed.
I first met Jim Robson in the unlikeliest of places: a bar on Main Street in 2022. To be fair, it was a weekday afternoon and the occasion was lunch, not drinks. It was my second season with the Canadians and first in Vancouver, and when my former and current bosses – Andy Dunn and Allan Bailey – asked if I’d like to join them for lunch with Jim and fellow BC legend Greg “Dr. Sport” Douglas. They hadn’t finished the sentence before I accepted.
While Jim doesn’t loom as large in my sports memory like so many of you (please excuse my American ignorance), I was well aware of his Hall of Fame career and his longtime connection with the Canadians. I’ll forever remember that first meeting, when I sat in rapture listening to Jim and Greg regale us with tales from their combined near two centuries in the business. It’s still one of my favorite of many special moments I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy since joining the C’s.
As the years passed, there were a few more meals together, with my fellow C’s staffers Walter Cosman and Rob Fai joining the group, and more stories. What I loved most, though, were the sunny afternoons at the ballpark, a vintage ‘Nooner half an hour away. There was Jim in his pair of seats behind home plate, red C’s cap, collared shirt and khakis, hot dog in hand, always with a guest. I’d squat or sit, we’d chat for a few minutes – usually about the game, which Canadians were hot, which weren’t – and then I was off to his other seat. That’s the one I sit in 66 games a year, one that Jim spent a decade in during the earliest days of his tremendous career.
Our last meeting was in the fall, in the afternoon of Game 1 of the World Series. Gracious as ever, he spent over an hour with me and Matt Sekeres to record an hour-long interview as part of The Nat’s 75th anniversary celebration. Afterwards I drove him home and had what would be our last conversation. It was rush hour, and there was impossible traffic to make a left turn onto his street. He said, “just pull over to the corner and I’ll hop out here.” I gently protested, he insisted and away he went. The last time I saw him, he was striding – the best a 91-year-old with a cane can stride – across a busy intersection. His own man to the last.
Jim Robson is a legend for a reason. I was lucky to know him, and he’ll be deeply, deeply missed.