Porter is having his say and making a difference

The voice remains unmistakable, and even comforting in such a familiar way.

And yet it has been two years since most of us have heard from Ross Porter, 28 years a Dodgers broadcaster, the irrepressible statistician who sometimes sounded as if he were purposely challenging himself by speaking with a mouthful of marbles.

Right now, Porter is flanked by two of his 14 grandchildren, each wearing an Angels cap, and is waiting for friends like Vin Scully, Don Sutton, Rafer Johnson and others to arrive at the Calabasas Country Club for a tournament to raise money for Stillpoint Resources, an organization that helps families of special-need children.

The voice was there to embrace each arriving golfer, as it had been for so many years for anyone who included the Dodgers as a part of their lives. All those wonderful nights, but not once in the last two years, Porter said, has he returned to Dodger Stadium.

And never again, he continued, “as long as the current ownership is in place.”

It’s been two years as “of Oct. 22,” Porter said, the date etched in obvious disappointment, “and in all candor, I have not even listened to a second of a Dodger broadcast.”

In one of their many early experiments, the Frank & Jamie McCourt-owned Dodgers hired Lon Rosen, Magic Johnson’s former agent, to turn up the music in the stadium, explore the possibility of hiring a mascot and increase interest in the team.

Before Rosen was dismissed, he persuaded the former Boston Parking Lot Attendant and his wife not to renew Porter’s contract.

“It was such a jarring development in my life -- I didn’t choose to retire, and I would have liked that choice,” said Porter, who will be 68 on Nov. 29, and who still can’t resist throwing in the perfect Porter prattle. “I share the same birthday with Vin.”

The Dodgers cut ties with Porter without making a phone call to inform him of the decision. He has yet to receive an explanation why the Dodgers no longer wanted him. It wasn’t surprising, really, to see so many of his friends and family wearing Angels caps at the golf tournament.

“There are far too many people with real troubles in their lives for me to sit here and moan and groan,” he said. “But I loved what I was doing ... just loved it.”

He will tell you he isn’t angry or bitter, but only disappointed. He says he has pursued seven or eight baseball jobs, but beyond a “thank you,” he remains out of work. The Dodgers were a huge part of his life, and his identity as well.

But then as much as everyone thought they really knew him, because of that all-too-familiar voice, his own son, also named Ross, said, “I believe my dad is better for it now,” no longer working for the Dodgers, “because he’s making a significant difference for mankind.”

That’s quite a mouthful, which also pretty much describes what he heard from his son Ross the morning after Porter had celebrated the birth of his second grandchild.

“The phone rang and my son was crying and he said the doctors said our little John Michael may have Down syndrome,” Porter said. “Stunned. I was stunned.

“He had a heart defect as well, and we had to go to a different hospital and one of the doctors asked my son, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ No operation and he would have died -- like any parent could even consider such a thing.”

Three heart operations later, John Michael still had not hit his 2nd birthday.

“He’s 12 now, the most delightful young man you could ever meet,” Porter said. “He is radiant, always happy and always eating pizza. He has got the gifts of joy and happiness and does not question Grady Little pitching changes.”

Ross Porter, the grandfather, is bragging, of course. He has already sung the praises of his wife, Lin, and their 45-year union, and the pride he has for his four kids. As you would expect from Porter, who liked to dwell on the oddities of baseball, he and Linn have two sets of twins to account for their four children.

There are not enough hours remaining before deadline, though, for “Grandy,” as his grandkids call him, to extol the talents of each of them, so the post-tournament talk focused on grandson John Michael and what Porter considers the treasure of life.

“We play a little game,” he said. “I say ‘Angels,’ and he says, ‘Dodgers.’ Then I say, ‘Dodgers,’ and he says the other. I’ll tell you, the twinkle in his eye when he’s sitting there on my lap is worth a million dollars.”

Grandy, of course, has a way of saying things, but his work now is doing what he can to help his son do more for those who need to hear just the right words.

“More than 80% of the parents who have a special-need child end up in divorce,” said Ross Porter, the son, the founder of Stillpoint Resources, which provides support and counseling for such families. “There are so many stressors from womb to birth and beyond. And we can help if we can just get to these families.”

That’s Grandy’s cue, putting a voice now to a worthy cause, which has to be better than working the last two years for such a lost cause as the Dodgers.

“I know how much the Dodgers meant to Dad and his identity,” the younger Porter said, “but let me tell you about the picture which is indelibly imprinted in my mind of Dad.

“I can still see my father, the 6-foot-5, 220-pound giant, gently holding the cardiac baby -- with all the cords coming out of him -- in his arms. My dad never blinked. He loved John Michael from the very first second he was with him. And you should see the two of them today.”

The mention of John Michael and the way the kid tweaks Grandy’s nose these days got a laugh out of Porter, so it really wasn’t the time to bring up the Dodgers again. But apparently there’s no bad time to bring up baseball.

“Love it,” Porter said. “Maybe we’ll go to an Angels game next season.”

T.J. Simers can be reached at

t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.