On the Passing of Mike Lange

Ryan Mill

February 20, 2025

Mike Lange will always be Pittsburgh Penguins hockey. 

He was the singular voice that breathed life and personality into a fledgling franchise in the 1970s and 80s. 

My dad was a beat writer for the Beaver County Times in the Penguins' first years. Bob Mill introduced me to hockey, and Mike Lange brought hockey to life. 

You could take all the catchphrases from his arsenal, and Mike would still be the best storyteller on the radio. 

Now commonplace, he was the first play-by-play man to start each period telling you which way the Pens were skating "on your radio dial." For the next 20 minutes, Mike's words painted a picture, so you better know which way to look. 

On my first day on the job as the Penguins' Public Address Announcer, Mike pulled me aside in the seats of the Mellon Arena, and for one of the best hours of my life, he gave me advice. The subjects ranged from life to hockey, dealing with management, to being true to myself.

The seven-year-old me listening to games from the back seat of my dad's car in the 1970s, the 17-year-old me running the radio board on game nights in the 80s, and the then 37-year-old me that was to fill in for an ailing legend, John Barbero, in 2009 -- were all losing their collective minds. 

Mike didn't need to spend the time. It wasn't his responsibility, but he knew I needed help and a friend. 

I would love to say Mike and I grew close, but that wasn't our relationship. He was quick to help or give a pat on the back, but Mike was an enigma. For as gregarious as he was on the air, he was as reserved off of it. 

Performing at that level, three hours a game, 80+ times a year, for 46 years -- Mike earned his quiet time.

Over the last few years, his presence has been missing on the Mike Lange Media Level. I expect it to be even more so on Saturday afternoon and for some time. 

Mike Lange's memory—and all those catchphrases that propped up a franchise for a decade and a half before Mario arrived to lend a hand—is a legacy that will outlive us all. 

Rest easy, Mikey. Wherever you are, I hope the beer is cold, and the chicken is cordon bleu. 

I am forever grateful,

Millsy