Where are they now: New York sports broadcaster Spencer Ross

Spencer Ross held out his palms.

“Look at my hands,” he said. “I’m a guy in his mid-80s. They’re not callused. All I did for 60 years was sit in a booth and watch a ballgame and get paid for it.

“I was a very lucky guy.”

He still is, in many ways.

Ross, 84, has leg problems that make it difficult for him to get around, and his hearing suffers from having “60,000 people yelling in my ears for 40, 50 years.”

But his mind remains sharp, and he’s a trove of living sports history.

Given his age and the breadth of his resume, there might be no one who knew or knows more New York-area sports figures, past and present.

During a two-hour lunch with his wife, Patricia Sellers, and Newsday last week near their Manhattan apartment, he tapped into that memory bank to recall a career that included calling games of every New York team other than the Mets.

Often, that involved long, multi-layered stories that do not fit into a newspaper article. (He already has 400 pages of an autobiography written.)

But Ross still knows how to tell 'em. Pro tip: If you want to properly “catch up” with Spencer Ross, reserve six hours, not two.

Frequently, his stories veer in unexpected directions. You might expect one about Catfish Hunter; you might instead get one about the catfish feasts Ross used to host for players and fellow announcers at his apartment.

“Celebrities would come,” he said, “because I made the greatest blackened catfish anybody's ever tasted. [The late Knicks TV analyst] Cal Ramsey said to me, ‘This is the best catfish I've ever had.’

“I said, ‘You're telling a Jewish kid from Brooklyn that he makes the best catfish you’ve ever had? That’s one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received.' ”

Ross grew up in Borough Park and went to New Utrecht High School, where he was a good basketball player.

One day, he faced Manhattan power St. Ann’s, coached by Lou Carnesecca. Ross held his own in a close loss. Carnesecca praised him afterward.

The two remained in regular phone contact until Carnesecca died in November at age 99. Until the end, they still talked about that game, remembering every detail.

Ross went to Florida State to play basketball, but after realizing he was not good enough for that level, he transitioned to calling the team’s games on radio.

The change in direction did not come as a complete surprise. Ross had started dabbling in play-by-play alongside Marty Glickman’s calls of Knicks games as a child.

“I met Marty Glickman when I was 10 years old,” Ross said. “Marty Glickman met me when I was 27.”

Ross was working at WHLI radio in Hempstead when he learned of a nearby team coming to the ABA —- the New Jersey Americans, owned by Arthur Brown and coached by former Knick Max Zaslofsky, a childhood hero of Ross’.

Ross began visiting the team’s offices looking for a job, and his persistence paid off when he was sent to meet the great Glickman for an assessment.

“I was so excited,” Ross said. “I gave him a tape, and three weeks later, he made the decision to hire me.” One year later, Ross was moving to Long Island with the franchise, newly dubbed “the Nets.”

From there, things got complicated, in a good way.

Ross surely will need an appendix or two in his book to chart his various stops on the late 20th century sports announcing circuit. He was everywhere.

He said his favorite assignment might have been the Jets of the early 1980s. He still is in touch with Bruce Harper and Wesley Walker from that era.

One of Ross’ most cherished memories is a moment he did not call. He was in line to describe the final outs of Tom Seaver’s 300th career victory for the White Sox over the Yankees in 1985.

But WPIX-TV had invited former Mets announcer Lindsey Nelson to join the regular Yankees crew for the big event.

With the bottom of the ninth inning set to begin, Ross recalled saying, “I really feel there's only one person who should call the final inning of Tom Seaver’s 300th win, and it’s you, Lindsey. Please take over.”

Years later, Ross ran into Nelson at a college football game in Tennessee and Nelson told him, “I was in this business for 60 years. What you did that day was the most selfless thing I've ever seen from another broadcaster.”

Ross had close friendships with an array of big names, including Mickey Mantle, Billy Martin, Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra. And that was just from the Yankees!

He still has plenty of friends, but the list of those who are gone grows by the year, recently including Carnesecca and Madison Square Garden photographer George Kalinsky, who died earlier this month.

It is no surprise that Ross seems to know everyone. He called everything from roller derby to World Team Tennis to indoor soccer and indoor football.

Fans of every persuasion, in turn, know Ross  and his distinctive voice.

About 10 years ago, he and his wife got into a cab on the West Side. “I was talking to Pat when we got in,” Ross said, “and before I could say anything, the cabbie, he didn’t even look at me, he says, ‘Where to, Mr. Ross?’

"You think that's a compliment? You better believe it.”

Sellers is not interested in sports. “I mean, zero,” she said. But she has come to appreciate Ross’ professional legacy, saying “I’m very proud of what he’s achieved.”

But Ross always sought to keep perspective on his role. He kept in mind a piece of wisdom from Glickman: “The only person who puts the game on to listen to the announcer is the announcer's mother.”

The games were what mattered. But those are in the past now. The stories live on.

“I can hardly walk,” Ross said. “It’s a difficult thing. But I really feel so blessed at the fact that I'm still here to tell the story.”

By Neil Best

neil.best@newsday.com@sportswatch

Neil Best first worked at Newsday in 1982, returned in 1985 after a detour to Alaska and has been here since, specializing in high schools, college basketball, the NFL and most recently sports media and business.