Remembering The Voice of The Bruins

Chris Roberts, 1949-2023

My phone beeped, with the message I'd been dreading. Walking back from the restrooms, just beyond the left field wall at Matador Field, toward the booth, where, in about thirty minutes, I'd start that day's broadcast, I learned that my friend and mentor, Robert LaPeer (aka Chris Roberts) had passed on. We knew this was coming, he'd not been doing well for the last few weeks. Still, the finality hit with the force of a gut punch, you're not quite ready for.

Some eleven years ago, a couple of weeks to the day, I'd received an urgent text message to call home, only to learn my father was on the way to the hospital after suffering a heart attack. I'd been at the ballpark that day too, just in a different part of town. I went numb, but also felt panicked all at once. In his life, my father had always been one to remain calm, even in difficult situations. It came from his upbringing, having been displaced from his home as a child by the 1947 partition. Later, upon moving to the US, he arrived in the Deep South, Atlanta in 1962, where he'd stay through the height of the civil rights movement, until 1967. He understood the value of keeping your wits about you, in situations you didn't control. Being my father's son, I assessed the situation. Checked flights that could get me home, settling on one for later that night. I called the game, went home packed a bag. Pop actually survived the heart attack, but we lost him a few days later to complications from Parkinson's.

Here I was again, having received news as I was about to go on the air, of Chris Roberts' passing. The last time we'd spoken, he'd called me after a broadcast of a basketball game I'd called had aired on Spectrum Sports Net, between CSUN and Cal Poly. “Hey, buddy! Saw the game on Spectrum, you sounded great!”

As I remembered, it was a pretty good call. CSUN had rallied back from sixteen down in the second half, one of their seven wins on the season, and it had been a fun game, if nothing else. Chris likely would have said I sounded great even if I hadn't, though. That's who he was. He wasn't big on giving “critiques.” He was more interested in learning your style, and honed in on what was unique about your particular call. Always encouraging, always with the smile that always came through, even on the telephone. We'd keep in touch with a call or text message every month or so. This March, between travel for work, Ramadan, and the crossover between baseball and basketball, we hadn't connected since that day he'd called out of the blue. I'd learned why about a week before, as he'd suffered a stroke in March and had been at home, more or less on hospice care for the previous month.

I'd first met Chris as a grad student at UCLA, covering a football press conferences at Morgan Center. He was the voice of the Bruins, always warm in greeting newcomers and young reporters, even if some others with him weren't. It wasn't until years later, that I really got to know Chris, after he retired, when he become President of the Southern California Sports Broadcasters (SCSB). They'd do quarterly luncheons around LA Sports events, a UCLA-USC luncheon in November, a Dodgers and Angels event, during Spring Training, and the yearly Awards Luncheon in January, where new Hall of Famers would be announced (Chris was one) and excellence in broadcasting was honored, at the Lakeside Golf Club, in Toluca Lake.

There was a heavy USC presence in the SCSB, so I think Chris kind of leaned on those of us, with UCLA ties. After all, he'd spent twenty-three years as voice of the Bruins, which saw him call the 1995 National Championship (including the Edney Drive), as well as three straight Final Fours from 2006-08, and some big Football games, including the Bruins' 1997 Cotton Bowl win, and the 13-9 upset of USC at the Rose Bowl, in 2006. Classic moments. He'd worked with several analysts over the years, and they all echoed the same message. “Chris Roberts made me better as a broadcaster.”

Chris began his career in the Big West, at Long Beach State. It had been the PCAA when he started in 1982, so we also shared that broadcasting lineage. Since 2008, I'd been calling games for both UC Riverside and CSUN in the new-fangled Big West. A bit of a distance from his era which not only saw the lines of UNLV, New Mexico State and Utah State in the league, but FBS Football as well. He'd even mentioned that he'd called UC Riverside Baseball for a time, while working in radio out in San Bernardino. Once he retired from UCLA, I'd get an occasional message on social media from Chris, when I posted highlights. Always positive, always encouraging.

It was the call I received in August of 2018 that was most humbling, when Chris asked if I'd be interested in joining the Executive Board at SCSB. Initially I'd balked, but Chris was always a persuasive salesman. He'd been a real estate broker for many years as built his radio resume. Honestly, I was a little intimidated. In the past, the board had consisted of guys like Bob Miller, Stu Nahan, and Tom Kelly. These were real Los Angeles icons. I was just a saloon-singer from Hoboken, who talked into a mic, and had it stream over the internet. We need to get younger, Chris said, and we need fresh ideas. I was sold, and signed on, Chris Roberts had closed another deal.

I didn't have the big network contract, but I had the respect of an LA Icon, and that was big. He'd ask questions about social media, and wanted to learn more about some of the technological advances in the broadcasting industry. I took to calling him “Mr. LaPeer,” his government name, as kind of an inside joke. He told me the story about how he came to be Chris Roberts. I got to meet his wife Ann, and his son David. Learned about his ups and downs over the years with UCLA's coaching changes and such. When Jim Harrick joined the CSUN staff, prior to the 2018-19 season, I got plenty of stories about the old days from Mr. LaPeer. He'd ask my opinion on SCSB business. How do we make this better, or how do we generate more interest in this kind of an event? We became colleagues and friends. He came to be someone who I could depend on, and I hoped he felt the same about me.

There was a recent piece on LinkedIn about “fake alumni.” Schools that people claim connection to without any real affiliation. UCLA was among the top 3 schools, where people claim a connection, without any real verification. You see this in sports a lot, “Well, I've always felt like I'm a Bruin.” But you're not. Chris is the exception that proves the rule. He holds a degree from Cal Poly-Pomona, but he's a Bruin through-and-through. Chris Roberts is as much a part of the UCLA lexicon as Stan's Donuts, Diddy Reese, Buck Fifty's, Sepi's or the Mongolian Barbecue on Gayley. If you never went to UCLA, none of this will mean anything to you, and that's kind of the point. While Chris didn't attend UCLA, he never had to talk about his connection to the school, because it was so very clear every time he said “Touchdown, UCLA!” on a football broadcast, or exclaimed about a blocked shot, three-pointer, slam dunk, or someone taking a charge on a hoops broadcast. Since Chris Roberts hung up the mic in 2015, there have been several people who've broadcast UCLA Athletics, but that doesn't necessarily make any of them “UCLA's Broadcaster,” in the sense that Chris Roberts was. This is not to be disrespectful to those who have followed Chris, just the truth. Chris was authentically a Bruin through his work, he never had to remind anyone about it.

Rest well, my friend. Thank you for everything. The friendship, the mentorship, the encouraging social media posts and text messages, and all the laughs at board meetings and events. You truly were one of a kind. And don't worry, Ann and David are doing okay. I know that's the most important thing you'd want to know.