"That rascal,” he said. "That'll make me the oldest guy left in the league.”

Indeed, the radio play-by-play man for football and basketball games at Kansas will become the senior statesman in Big 12 booths. That's because the 79-year-old Barry is calling it quits after this season.

This is the end of an era.

Some say it's long overdue.

Over the past few years, Barry has become as well-known for "Check that” as for "25 … 20 … 15 … 10 … 5 … Touchdown, Oklahoma!” His passion has never waned. His enthusiasm has never faded.

His accuracy is another story.

Radio is the most unforgiving medium. It demands instantaneous perfection. Unlike television, there is no visual to fill in the blanks. Unlike newspapers and Internet, there is no editing process.

That remains the same no matter how long someone does radio play-by-play.

"The challenge is still there,” said Davis, who has done play-by-play for more than 40 years.

He chuckled.

"As you get a little older,” he said, "the field gets a little farther away and the players are a little smaller.”

Seeing numbers on jerseys is tougher. Spying names on backs is darn near impossible. Sometimes the ball even goes missing every now and again. We've all been there.

Few of us, though, have had that I-have-no-idea-what-just-happened feeling on live radio.

Most of us age privately. We know our shortcomings, what isn't as perfect as it used to be. We see our flaws, what isn't as perky as it once was. Then, we figure out ways to cover up as much of it as we can.

We wear glasses. We get Botox. We have some things tucked and other things enhanced. We take medicine. We buy Spanx.

(Don't know what those are? Bet your wife has a pair or two in her underwear drawer.)

Getting old, legendary actress Bette Davis once said, is not for sissies. It's hard work, and most of us try to hide it from the world.

Bob Barry Sr. aged right before our ears.

There is no hiding when you're describing the comings and the goings of fleet-footed twentysomethings who are flying up the football field or zooming down the basketball court. There is only a split second to see and process and report what is going on.

Even the sharpest of minds would struggle with that.

Seriously, next time there's a game on television, try to do some play-by-play. Remember, most of the folks who would be listening wouldn't be able to see the game. Remember, too, that you have to tell them what happened, who was involved, how many yards were gained or lost, what the down and distance is, and, by the way, don't forget to mention the score and the time on the clock every now and again.

No matter how well you know the team, that is a tough gig.

"The challenge is still there,” said Davis, who is entering his 27th season as the Jayhawks' play-by-play voice, "but if you're a guy like Bob Barry who has the natural enthusiasm, that's a big part of it.”

Question the accuracy of Barry's calls over these past few seasons all you want, but there can be no doubt about his zeal. He loves what he does, loves the games, loves the teams, loves the players.

OU may find a more accurate play-by-play voice, but it will never find a more passionate one.

Does that excuse the mistakes?

Nope.

But in the same way, the miscues don't negate everything else about him. The things that endeared tens of thousand of fans. The things that resonated with generation after generation.

Barry had what every play-by-play voice wants — a connection with fans.

It was such an amazing connection, Davis reminds us, that Barry was able to go from calling Oklahoma games to Oklahoma State games to Oklahoma games again. Who's able to do that? Who overcomes a rivalry as heated as Bedlam not once but twice?

Bob Barry Sr. did.

"Gosh,” Davis said, "I'm going to miss him.”

His voice may have aged, but it never stopped resonating.