On the mic for three decades (at 76 years young!) beloved high school sports announcer still going strong
HUDSONVILLE, MI -- On a nippy Tuesday afternoon in early February, a sharply-dressed Gregg Bareman retrieves a cognac leather briefcase from the rear seat of his car—parked in the closest spot to the front entrance of Unity Christian High School. His back curled with the wisdom of age, he slowly but steadily makes his way toward the doors. Once inside, he greets his team at the ticket table on his way to the gym. He’s been the voice of the sports teams here for over three decades.
Bareman, 76, steps into a cacophony of squeaky shoes, bouncing MHSAA-regulation basketballs, and warm-up tracks on the speakers. A wayward bounce comes sailing overhead. He swats at it, unfazed, and keeps on moving. His chair waits for him behind the small scorers table, a little bare in the afternoon when the freshmen play. But it’ll fill up for JV and varsity. However crowded that table may get, he knows that seat belongs to him. Over a head of silver hair, he will soon don his crown — a little black headset — to resume his role as the long-time voice of the people.
Bareman pens in lineups with the opponent coach.
Bareman stands for the anthem before the varsity game.
Gregg took the helm when the previous announcer, a teacher at the time, fell ill. With Bareman’s background in public access TV at WCET, the athletic director asked if he’d give it a shot. “And I’ve been at it ever since,” he said. “I just come alive when the mic comes on; the reverberation and the crowd.”
But more than a love for the game, his passion is informed by generations of family legacy. He’s a graduate of this school, had kids at this school and now he’s got grandkids at this school. “I didn’t make the team as a player, but this is how I contribute now, some many years later,” he said. Introducing the varsity starters, his grin stretches just a bit as he looks to the bench. “Starting at one-guard, a five-foot-ten-inch junior, number one, Kaaadennn BAR-mannnn!”
Bareman pens in lineups at the scorers table between matches.
Bareman, reflected in a laptop, announces a play.
With watchful eyes tracking the action through thick glasses, his face is calm. He lets his voice, of course, do the talking. He’ll pull a big smile when it really heats up, like a Jack Kamminga monstrous jam or a near-full-court buzzer-beater by Sam Thompson to close out the half. Or anything to do with his grandson Kaden.
When the game closes out, he goes over the totals, calls out the upcoming games, and bids the crowd farewell. He’ll say his goodbyes to a couple friends, family and the young players comprising the community where he’s become such a fixture.
Bareman chats with players, friends and family after the game.
Bareman totes his breifcase on the way out.
When Gregg retired from his regular work about ten years ago, he made a discovery. “I had been at that job for so long it had become part of my identity,” he said. “I would think to myself some mornings and think ‘I know who I used to be then but who am I now?’ Announcing at Unity Christian is a small part of my identity, and that’s kind of what I have left of the person I once was,” he said.
It would be hard to walk away now. At some point in time, he may need to leave the job for someone else.“I need to hang this up and go to Florida like other old people—let my wife enjoy some sunshine in the winter,” Bareman said. But as long as he and his wife have their own flesh and blood on the court, they’d want to be there anyway. “So I might as well have the best seat in the house and have a purpose for being here.”
After a long evening, Bareman heads back out to his car.