A few seats away, John Toth, 39, who grew up in Grays Ferry and now lives in Washington Township, N.J., was telling his friend Bruce Jones, 52, of Moorestown, N.J., about meeting Kalas before the 1993 Orange Bowl.
"I'm at a hotel with six guys from the neighborhood when this limo pulls up and out pops Harry," Toth said. "I go, 'Yo, Harry! We're from Philly! You got to give us a Mike Schmidt call.'
"Harry goes, 'Michael Jack Schmidt. Long drive into deep centerfield. That ball is outta here!' We're high-fiving, going crazy. I'll never forget him."
Neither will Shaul Stone, a Philadelphian now living in Los Angeles, lifting a glass to Kalas' memory, telling friends Dan Coles and Kristen Miceli, of King of Prussia, "Baseball is my life's light and Harry was the voice of my father.
"My father taught me how to play baseball," Stone said. "Harry taught me how to listen to it. Whenever you heard Harry's voice, you knew it was springtime and good times were on the way."
Joining his Lenape High classmates Ryan Brinker, Mark Foresta and Jake Janofsky in a crab-fries toast, Corey Panati, of Mount Laurel, N.J., said, "He is the Voice. He is the Philadelphia Phillies. We all love [Chris] Wheeler, but, I mean, he's no Harry.
"He died doing what he loved," Brinker said. "He got his one dream at the end of his life. He finally got to announce the Phillies winning the championship."
Phillies fans everywhere sent memories to the Daily News.
"Harry was there for the opening of the Vet and he outlived it - yet he died too young," wrote Lawrence Bloom, of Waterville, Maine.
"I have lived many places far from the Philly 'burbs where I grew up, but regardless of where I was, listening to Harry broadcast a Phillies game always brought me back home."
Tracy E. Allen, of Ocean City, N.J., wrote: "Harry would get your emotions going better than any other announcer with his stirring calls of big plays.
