Some voices are unforgettable. For communities spanning from DC to Virginia to Maryland, Shellie Bowers’ voice was one of them.
As a baseball coach, sports announcer, broadcast teacher, tutor, mentor and comedian, Bowers was involved in many aspects of the DC community.
“He loved to talk and he loved to talk sports,” said Mitch Gore, athletic director at Woodrow Wilson High School and longtime friend of Bowers. “But he also cared about kids.”
Bowers was the public address announcer for a variety of sports at Wilson for many years, until his name transcended his resume and he started booking larger engagements.
“Even as he booked bigger and bigger gigs, he would always come back,” Gore said.
Wilson’s varsity basketball team played its first home game of the season Dec. 10, but the contest started differently than others. Players and attendees alike observed a moment of silence in memory of Bowers, who passed away unexpectedly at the age of 55 in his DC home Dec. 4.
“When you have someone who is so connected to this community, to lose them so suddenly — it’s devastating,” said Nadira Ricks, assistant athletic director at Wilson.
Ricks attended Wilson only a few years after Bowers. She fondly recalls his early days after graduating from the Tenleytown high school in 1981, before he began announcing games at his alma mater. His college career began at Grambling State University, before he went on to earn a Bachelor of Arts in Mass Media from the University of the District of Columbia.
“We always talked about bleeding green and white,” Ricks said, referencing Wilson’s school colors. “It was always a blessing [while working together] because we remembered Wilson the way it was before the buildings were remodeled and the students multiplied.”
Bowers joined the Wilson staff in the late ’80s, initially as an attendance counselor and junior varsity sports announcer. With a voice that was humble and kind, and a compassionate personality to match, Bowers’ reputation as an announcer grew rapidly.
“He had all these taglines,” Gore said. “‘First and 10!’ ‘THREEEEEEEEE!’ And then the crowd would respond with, ‘Wil-SON!’”
Baseball was Bowers’ favorite sport, though he loved basketball and soccer as well. It wasn’t uncommon to catch Bowers in Washington Nationals gear on the weekends in Navy Yard.
When Wilson instructional coach David Thompson met Bowers in the fall of 1997, Bowers was announcing at junior varsity baseball games.
“He told me he was interested in coaching, too,” Thompson said. Before long, he and Bowers became co-coaches. “He was such an enthusiastic guy, always reliable. He focused on the whole practice and not just a small part, because he wanted an opportunity for the kids to really learn to play baseball.”
Sports and kids were Bowers’ passions. With his old-school, clam-shell phone — the battery was always running out, Thompson noted — and Fuji disposable camera, he gathered the junior varsity players at the end of every year to capture a team photo.
“Later he would come back with pictures for all the kids — laminated with every player’s names and stats on the back,” Thompson said.
On Thursday nights when Bowers wasn’t coaching, he was tutoring students, or dabbling in stand-up comedy, performing occasionally across the DC metropolitan area. And in his few spare moments, he taught broadcasting to Wilson students. Tiger Radio, born 15 years ago, went on the air every school day at noon.
“They would record interviews and he would teach them how to edit,” Thompson said.
Bowers “connected with students everywhere he went”: first at Wilson, then at Ballou High School and Kramer Middle School, where he coached and mentored students. Later he made his mark at Grambling State University, Georgetown University and Howard University. At the latter, he had announced men’s and women’s basketball games for the past 30 years.
“He made unique ways of saying things normal — made it a part of Howard’s history, our culture,” said Kevin Nickelberry, Howard’s head basketball coach. “He wasn’t just our announcer. He was our friend.”
Before every Howard game, Nickelberry and Bowers performed their pregame ritual: a secret handshake. Nickelberry said it’s hard for him to imagine basketball season without Shellie.
“I’m going to miss the head nod,” Nickelberry said. “That look he’d give me when we were doing well or when we weren’t doing so well. He’d cover the mic with his hands and give that Shellie laugh.”
That laugh was an infamous part of the Shellie Bowers legacy.
“He could make anyone laugh at any time,” said Jalen Jamison-Johnson, a Wilson alum and current sophomore at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore.
Bowers’ announcing style was different than that of his peers. Some attribute it to his passion for sports and the students.
“Some announcers have this bright loud voice — Shellie’s was more mellow,” Ricks said. “But he was always able to put an emphasis on something, and he was so knowledgeable about the sport.”
As one of two African-American players on the Wilson baseball team, Jamison-Johnson said he looked up to Bowers as a mentor, particularly after his own father’s death.
“He saw me at my lowest,” Jamison-Johnson said. “He got me through my father’s passing sophomore year.”
Many of Bowers’ former students came from all over the country to attend his funeral service on Dec. 15 in Wilson’s auditorium. Seemingly without trying, Bowers established himself as one of the most recognized voices in the entire DC sports community.
“You knew it was a big event if Shellie Bowers was there,” Thompson said.
Announcers typically do not earn a large salary, but everyone who knew Bowers said that he never did what he did for money. He truly loved his job.
“You knew he was doing what he loved,” Nickelberry said.
Since his death, there has been an outpouring of love and respect for Bowers all over Twitter and other social media.
“As soon as you would talk to him, it’s open arms,” Jamison-Johnson said. “You don’t find that with too many people.”
One fact remains true for Bowers’ adoring fans, friends and family: His voice continues to reverberate in their hearts.
“The next basketball game that has a 3-pointer, I think “THREEEEEEEEE” will be echoing in all of our ears,” Ricks said.
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