The owner of the voice that just sounds like hockey waits for a telephone call that may never come.
A courtesy call, maybe. A welcoming call. A call out of sheer respect for who he is and what he’s done. Something from his old bosses, his current bosses, maybe the new people who are taking over.
Something to let Bob Cole know anything about today and tomorrow in a broadcast world still swirling from the $5.2-billion Rogers deal that knocked so many people, so many networks, for a loop.
“No one has called me,” said Cole, the voice of Saturday night for so many of our lives, talking on the telephone. “I thought somebody might call, tell me something, say hello, you know...
“Everybody is telling me how I’m supposed to feel about this — ‘Are you upset about this? What does it mean for you?’