Former Globe and Mail ball scribe Larry Millson (centre) is shown here being presented with the Jack Graney Award by John Starzynski (left) and David Morneau (right) of the Canadian Hall of Fame. Photo: Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame

October 19, 2026

By Bob Elliott

Canadian Baseball Network

Sitting down alongside Larry Millson the first thing you noticed was his pencil case.

Then, he’d take out a piece of paper from its three-ring binder and a ruler.

He’d draw lines across the piece of paper for the hitter and vertical lines for each inning.

Most everyone else in the press box used the printed lineups provided by the home team.

It was unusual, but Larry scored games his way -- like he did everything else.

I remember asking someone in the 1970s, “What’s the best way to score?” The veteran ball scribe answered: “Score any way you want -- as long as when the game is over, you can explain what exactly happened in the second inning.”

And then there were his pencils inside his pencil case ... different colors for at-bats with men on base and who knows what else. I never asked. I thought it was like asking for someone’s PIN number.

Most people in the press box used a pen and had a back up Bic pen in their pocket. Larry used a pencil with an eraser so he could change his scoresheet if the scorekeeper changed a hit to an error ... or vice versa.

Larry saw more Blue Jays games than any other writer in the history of the franchise. He started in 1980 and was covered the team until the 2025 World Series. From start to finish, aside from a short step sideways to work on immigration when the Globe and Mail shrunk its Sports department in 1991.

* * *

Larry bounced back like a bad check, returning to sports in 1992 covering Toronto FC and again the Blue Jays. One afternoon at the park and he rushed over to tell us about an amazing game he had covered at Soldier’s Field in Chicago.

When he left after 10 minutes, I shook my head. My friend from Denver said, “Hey, at least he is enjoying it. If they took you out of sports and put you on something else you’d be sitting over in the corner . . . sulking.”

My friend from Denver was right of course. He always was.

* * *

When the press box was located behind home plate at SkyDome, I sat in seat No. 10. Larry was four seats to my right. He would time the anthems and kept a record.

Halfway through a slow-moving anthem I’d hear a whisper from my right. It was Larry: “We’ve got a chance for a record tonight.”

He did things his way. He timed hitters when they ran to first. He knew who hustled and who was going through the motions.

* * *

Someone once described Larry as a being a “contrarian.” I’m not sure about that. Argue? Yes. Debate? Yes. The ability to tell a club-authored cliche from what the player or executive really felt? Yes.

Yet zero debates and zero arguing during the game. Larry watched every pitch. Writers nowadays seldom do.

I’d say it is not their fault. Between assignments from bosses to be active on ‘X’, to check what is written on ‘X’ or Facebook, or Instagram and whatever news is going on in the world (and of course: “Are the Leafs winning?”) there is little time to watch each pitch.

* * *

In the old days when you could interview a player without a Rogers Communications screen behind him, Larry mingled ... from one locker to another.

Larry once told me the late John Cerutti was his best friend. He was very close to Tom Henke, George Bell, Ernie Whitt, Carlos Delgado, Pat Hentgen, John Olerud, Pat Borders, Todd Stottlemyre and others, as well as managers Bobby Cox, Jimy Williams, Cito Gaston and John Gibbons.

*For some reason Larry disliked every player from this one California school. One night in manager John Gibbons’ office he was in the midst of a soliloquy venting against the school, its program and the players it produced.

Late to the party was visiting broadcaster Steve Sparks of the Texas Rangers. Gibbons, who could tease with the best of them, introduced the announcer to everyone in the room.

It was quiet for a second and then Gibbons said, “Steve went to Larry’s favourite school.” Larry continued to list the players to a straight-faced Sparks. When we got upstairs we looked up Sparks. Sparks had pitched at Houston State. Score one for Gibbons.

* * *

One spring, Gibbons and Larry would argue daily about weapons of mass destruction. Sometimes it would go on 15-to-20 minutes.

That spring, the Jays played a day game at Al Lang Field in St. Petersburg. I was going to a concert: Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and George Strait that night.

I asked Larry for a favor: “I have two questions, please let me go first before you two begin to argue ... it’s a package show which starts at 1 o’clock.” He said, “No problem.” We walked in and as I was going to ask a question ... Gibbons zinged Larry. The two went toe-to-toe in humorous manner.

Some 25 minutes later -- after the debate and my two questions -- I headed upstairs, filed and drove across the bridge to Raymond James Stadium for the concert.

* * *

Most springs after his work was done Larry would head to Eddie’s, a Dunedin bar, for a beer and a bite to eat.

The next day he’d show and give his a play-by-play on his Pop-A-Shot machine.

“Almost had a record last night Bobby, but someone bumped my arm on my last shot,” he would say.

It reminded me of working in Ottawa. The deskman would ask the boss if he had golfed that day. “Well, on the dog-leg left third hole, I blocked the ball really well ...” The deskman would get up and leave and come back to hear our boss say “and on 18 ...” For someone who did not golf it was painful.

One spring there was a championship fight on closed circuit TV. So, GM Pat Gillick, his assistant GM Gord Ash and Fran Brown, Gillick’s executive assistant headed to Eddie’s. They arrived before Larry had finished his work.

We’re not sure who figured it out -- but someone in the group noticed an electronic eye tabulated points when balls went through the hoop.

Someone grabbed a pool cue, deposited the money and moved the cue up and down. Guess what? A record score. They typed in FB -- Fran Brown as the new record holder.

Larry eventually arrived saw the threesome, stopped to say hello and off he went to the hoops machine. All three told us Larry did a double take that he was no longer the Eddie’s record holder ... Fran was best shooter ... so the machine said.

A few years ago, Mike Boon (TorontoMike) invited Dave Perkins, Larry and myself to his Etobicoke studio.

As the show was winding down Larry said, “I’d like to congratulate Bobby ... on being inducted into the Invisible Volleyball Referee Hall of Fame.”

There were stunned listeners all around. The background: One late night in Baltimore Larry, another writer and I emerged from a bar to find a beach volleyball court. Larry and the other writer played a game without a ball, while I sat in the referee’s chair.

Larry won every point. The other writer complained on our walk to our hotel. “How come?” he asked. I said, “Because Larry dove for every ball.”

* * *

Besides the Globe, Larry worked for the Toronto Telegram, The Canadian Press and Field Level Media. He authored two books: Ballpark Figures: The Blue Jays and the Business of Baseball and co-wrote, the wonderfully titled, From Hockey to Baseball: I Kept Them in Stitches with Ken Carson former Blue Jays and Pittsburgh Penguins trainer.

In 2016, he was presented with Jack Graney Award by Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame in St. Marys.

* * *

At the 1985 winter meetings in San Diego, we both had an open day before our flight home. We headed across the border to Tijuana, watched the races and found a sports book with dozens of TVs.

The first race we saw was a closed circuit from The Meadowlands in New Jersey. Eventually, I said, “Time to go.” Larry shook his head no.

“I just bet the first at Bay Meadows in San Mateo (Calif) ... I’ve never lost at 10 different tracks in the same day.”

In later years, we took turns explaining updates on our tickers (Larry knew more than I did). A doc put me on a lasik -- which I mistook for phenylbutazone (bute) and asked if I’d now be banned from racing in some States.

Larry said I would be OK “but the program would show a huge ‘L’ to tell bettors I was on the drug.” He knew his thoroughbreds.

* * *

Larry passed Oct. 6. Deepest sympathies to his wife, Diane, of almost 60 years, daughter Cara, grandson Benjamin and great granddaughter Elly.

We traveled together. We argued with each other. We shook our heads at the same time watching a bone-head play. Mostly we laughed together. And we were friends.

As Hall of Famer Bobby Cox said once: “Larry? Great guy. Hard worker. Knows the game.”

Elliott: Remembering Larry Millson