We welcome back the master of yak

Dick Vitale is singing.

"Row, row, row your boat," he croons at the beginning of a teleconference announcing his return and, well, at least he didn't serenade us with "I Will Survive."

Dickie V sings about as well as Washington shoots free throws, but after the past two months of his life, he's welcome to celebrate however he wants.

After throat surgery, after complications, after turning mute for more than three weeks, the premier mouth of college basketball returns to ESPN on Wednesday for the Duke-North Carolina game.

Most loudmouths, you wouldn't miss. Rush Limbaugh. Rosie O'Donnell. If they talked themselves off a cliff and you had a free hand, wouldn't you use it to fetch some earplugs? Simon Cowell. Nancy Grace. If they had proposed the First Amendment, wouldn't you have preferred a stronger federal government?

But Dickie V(ociferous), you missed him. Admit it. If you didn't, you should have. College hoops hasn't been the same without his chipper shtick. The season has been blander than a Georgetown offensive set. As wacky as Vitale can be, no one promotes the joy of sports better.

Now, the merriment is back.

"We missed him. The sport missed him. The fans missed him," said Dan Steir, Vitale's boss at ESPN.

Awesome, baby, with the capital A(men)!

Vitale hasn't worked a game since Dec. 4. The next day, the 68-year-old received disappointing news from his doctor: ulcers on his left vocal cord.

Finally, after a couple of years of suffering a sore throat and constant hoarseness, of laughing through telecasts and then crying to Steir afterward, Vitale had an answer. It wasn't acid reflux, which several specialists had told him. The problem was much more serious, and for a while, there was the added fear that those lesions could be cancerous.

"Cancer, that word scares the life out of anyone," Vitale said.

He found out he didn't have cancer, but the man whose livelihood revolves around his voice learned of a different challenge.

After surgery, he wouldn't be allowed to talk.

For 25 days following the operation, Vitale didn't speak. He wrote on grease boards or in notepads to communicate. His handwriting is awful. His wife, Lorraine, struggled to read his scrawls.

"I was really, really down," said Vitale, who sounded virtually the same — just a tad tamer — during Monday's interview. "There was a moment I thought I'd never be behind a microphone again. I didn't want my career to end because of a physical ailment."

Ironically, more pain actually improved his spirits. As Vitale suffered through post-operation infections and fevers and later learned he needed prostate surgery, he stopped worrying about not talking.

Then, on Jan. 13, the doctor told him he could speak again. Give it a try. Whatever you want to say.

Vitale couldn't. He started to cry. So the doctor asked him to try counting to 10. He did, slowly, like a child.

Three weeks after starting over, Vitale is the jab-step jabberer once more, discussing all things hoop. I figured he was the perfect subject to enjoy a vacation from writing about the long-awaited Erik Bedard/Adam Jones trade.

But as soon as I announce myself as a Seattle writer, Vitale veers into baseball.

"Is the Bedard trade going to happen?" he asks.

Sure looks like it. Just waiting on some physicals.

"The Mariners are giving up a pretty good young player, Jones."

Yeah, they're giving up quite a package.

Not wanting to wander off into discussions of OPS and park-adjusted ERA, I went ahead and asked a basketball question.

That Dickie V, still the master of yak.

"I'm going to be myself, but I think I'm going to let the microphone do more work," he said.

Vitale has been working with a voice coach once a week and learning how to speak more from his diaphragm. During a game Saturday in Louisville, Vitale's doctor, Steven Zeitels of Massachusetts General Hospital, will accompany him and monitor a device that will measure the strain on his vocal cords. ESPN has also tweaked Vitale's schedule slightly so that he doesn't overdo it.

Years of exuberance helped create Vitale's problem. He promises to be much smarter this time. Just don't expect his voice to become as smooth as Marv Albert's anytime soon.

"I've always been raspy," Vitale said. "Heck, Rod Stewart is raspy, and he makes millions of dollars."

Welcome back, Dickie V. But no more singing, baby.

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com.