Get out the mustard and the rye bread! Inside one of baseballs grandest calls

By the time the Mariners’ 1995 season came around, the team’s original radio broadcaster, Dave Niehaus, had already gotten plenty of mileage out of his two signature calls: “My, oh my” and “Fly, fly away.”

Niehaus likely wasn’t looking to add another catchphrase to his resume on a July afternoon in Cleveland, but you never know when inspiration might find you — or what it might possess you to say.

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The Mariners, two games under .500 and still two months from making their vaunted charge to the postseason, had a 5-2 lead going into the top of the seventh inning, loading the bases with one out.

It was then that it happened: Cleveland’s Bud Black reached back and fired a pitch that Tino Martinez sent over the right field wall. Niehaus, calling the game on television on that particular day instead of his traditional spot on the radio airwaves, nearly lost his marbles on the air, saluting Martinez with a call he had never used before:

“Get out the rye bread and the mustard, Grandma. It’s grand salami time!”

Niehaus’ television partner, Ron Fairly, turned toward Niehaus as if he wanted to say something but could only offer a bewildering glance. “He looked at me like I had taken a step on the other side,” Niehaus, who died in 2010, said in the 2017 biography “My Oh My.” “I looked at him and knew I had taken a step on the other side.”

“It was just perfect for him,” said radio producer/engineer Kevin Cremin said. “It was a great call. He wasn’t, in general, a fan of that sort of thing, but it worked for him. Dave was so in the moment.”

Niehaus’ grandiose call flew under the radar — remember, there was no Twitter — but that changed eight days later during the 10th inning of a 6-6 game against the Detroit Tigers in the Kingdome. With Martinez facing Buddy Groom and Niehaus back in the radio booth, it was déjà vu all over again as Martinez hit a walk-off grand slam — make that a grand salami, complete with grandma’s mustard and rye bread.

This time, people took notice.

“When Dave said that, my eyes opened really wide,” said longtime radio partner Rick Rizzs. “I leaned back in my chair, looked at (Cremin) and said, ‘What the heck was that?'”

Seattle radio host Dave Grosby, who was doing the team’s pre- and postgame shows on the Mariners’ flagship station, was in his car driving back from Pullman when he heard the call on the radio. He nearly drove in the ditch. He called Cremin to ask about the wild call.

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“The old man’s on a roll,” Cremin said. “The old man’s on a roll.”

So begins the legend of Niehaus’ Grand Salami, perhaps one of the most unique and endearing home run calls the game has ever known. So how did Niehaus land on the particular phrase? He explained it in “My Oh My” to author Billy Mac.

“I’ve always called a grand slam home run a salami,” Niehaus said. “I went back to the hotel one time and said, ‘Well, what goes well with salami?’ And I came up with rye bread and mustard.”

The call took off from there, much to Niehaus’ surprise. One day in the Kingdome, a fan from the 300 level attached a salami to a fishing pole and slowly lowered it down to the broadcast level, where it swayed in front of Niehaus, Cremin and Rizzs.

“I’m not eating that,” an incredulous Niehaus told Rizzs.

That was just the start. People would lower full salami sandwiches down to the booth, and even full jars of mustard. The Oberto Sausage Company based in Kent, south of Seattle, sent Niehaus a salami nearly four feet long. “Grand Salami” was later used as the name of an independent magazine sold outside the Kingdome and then Safeco Field, which opened in the summer of 1999.

“That was kind of nice for a while,” Cremin said.

Salumi, a beloved cured meat and sandwich shop located in Pioneer Square just north of Seattle’s stadium district, honored Niehaus with his own sandwich — three variations of a salami sandwich, actually — with one comprised of Mexican-inspired mole salami seasoned with chocolate, chipotle and ancho peppers. There’s no way in hell Niehaus’ grandmother ever concocted one of those for her little Dave growing up in Indiana.

When the sandwiches were set in front of Niehaus, he was speechless, the Seattle P-I reported: “These look fabulous,” he said, his voice dripping with excitement (or hunger). “This is incredible.”

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A funny thing about Niehaus’ Grand Salami call was that Dave would, on occasion, omit a word or even rearrange the sequence of words during the height of his excitement.

Like on Sept. 28, 1995, with each game crucial for the Mariners’ attempt to get into the postseason, when Ken Griffey Jr. blasted an eighth-inning slam to give Seattle a 6-2 victory. Niehaus was so elated that he forgot one very important ingredient for his sandwich.

On Edgar Martinez’s momentous grand slam in Game 4 of the 1995 American League Division Series against the Yankees, Niehaus threw in two additional words: “Get out the rye bread and mustard this time Grandma!”

There were even a couple of times when Niehaus got a bit ahead of himself calling a well-struck ball that appeared headed for the stands only to fall short. Dave would have to cut his call off, sometimes in mid-sentence.

“Every once in a while, the ball didn’t go out and you’ve have to put it (the sandwich) back in the cabinet,” Cremin said.

As the years went on, there was great anticipation in the radio booth whenever the Mariners loaded the bases. Niehaus and Rizzs had fun preparing for it knowing there was a possibility for a Grand Salami.

“He would set it up: ‘Hey, grandma is going to the cupboard.’ And I’d say, ‘She’s reaching for the rye bread,'” said Rizzs. “When it did happen, well, that was radio gold. Everything he said worked for Dave. He was golden.”

(Photo: Elaine Thompson / Associated Press)

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