You know the voice, but do you know the man? Inside the world of Gene Honda

Gene Honda's email accounts are not linked to his phone, and he's not on Twitter. Hang with him for a night and you might never see his face aglow in the mobile reflection.

Honda is a social animal who survives on bar trivia, self-deprecating quips, belly laughs, Salem Ultra Lights and sporting events. So many sporting events.

His schedule is relentless: He is the public-address announcer for the White Sox, Blackhawks, Illinois football, DePaul basketball, the Final Four, the Big Ten men's basketball tournament, the Maui Invitational, the Chicago Marathon and … wait, what are we forgetting?

Oh, yeah. He plans to spend his 65th birthday announcing a flag football tournament in Houston.

How many nights a year does he work?

"According to my bank account," he shoots back, "not enough."

It's a Monday and Honda is grabbing dinner with colleagues before the Sox game. He tells stories about the original pronunciation of Ozzie Guillen's last name (it contained a "j" sound) and having introduced Michael Jordan at Chicago Stadium while pinch hitting for Tommy Edwards.

Someone at the table mentions that the NBA draft lottery is the next night, and it's being held downtown.

"You mean it's in Chicago and you're not hosting it?" Dave Marran jokes.

Marran, a stats maven for scoreboard operations, was at Old Comiskey Park for Honda's first day on the job in 1985.

"Gene kind of raised me," Marran says, "and showed me how to be a professional."

"A professional what?" Honda replies.

At his essence, Honda is a man who takes his job(s) seriously — but not himself.

He is unwavering in his commitment to pronounce every name correctly, whether it's Europeans on the ice, Kenyans on the asphalt or Latinos on the diamond.

During the Big Ten basketball tournament at the United Center, he reeled off Illinois' Giorgi Bezhanishvili as easily as Northwestern's Vic Law.

"He's a professional," says Melanie Murphy, who creates scoreboard graphics. "For as animated and funny as he is, he doesn't let the emotions affect the job. And he's not just a reader, he's a content editor who's able to fix and correct copy. He's the best. Not by a little, by a lot."

‘Geography and I do not get along’

It's trivia night at Will's Northwoods Inn, a woodsy-themed Packers bar in Lakeview. Honda first came here for a New Year's Eve party thrown by former Blackhawks center John Madden. Now the bar with a stuffed moose head on display supplies his Tuesday night fix of Miller Lites and brain calisthenics.

Teams of up to eight compete for free rounds of drinks and gift cards, promising not to use technology to cheat. Honda welcomes basically anyone to his team, with the caveat he or she must try to contribute.

Is he any good?

"Depends on the category," Honda says. "Geography and I do not get along."

There is a lot he knows, though, starting with his home city. Honda was born at Illinois Masonic and raised in Andersonville before attending Senn High School and heading to the University of Illinois in 1972.

His father, Ben, an architect, envisioned him becoming an engineer, saying his son wasn't creative enough for other fields. Gene switched from math to finance before discovering his passion after noticing an ad for a DJ at the campus radio station, WPGU.

"My dad's advice was to learn how to speak in public," he recalls. "I told my cousin: 'Let's do it to meet girls.' Well, I batted .500."

He hits better at trivia.

"We usually just wait for him to come up with the answer," says Courtney Wheaton of the White Sox Pride Crew. "He's one of the smartest guys I've ever met. Keeps us on our toes."

Honda studied at Illinois long enough, he's fond of saying, to span four administrations — from Nixon to Reagan. When he finally got out, he deejayed at Chicago's WLAK-FM, which is now WLIT-FM.

"Barry Manilow helped pay for my first car," he says.

Gene Honda at easy-listening WLIT-FM in 1991. “Barry Manilow helped pay for my first car,” he said. (Chicago Tribune)

The first question of the evening: In 1946, this telecommunications engineering corporation was formed in Tokyo. What is it known as today?

"I want to say Toshiba," Honda says to his teammates. "Yamaha didn't get into music until the 1960s."

Finally he settles on his answer: Sony.

It's correct.

"Thank you, Mother," the Japanese American Honda says with a smirk.

(Later, upon finding out he's the only "Game of Thrones" devotee at the table, he says: "That's OK. I'm used to being a minority.")

Wine is produced from which fruit that contains a glossy, red skin?

Everyone looks at one another. It has to be grapes, right?

Honda mentions apples, adding: "You can make wine out of anything."

Apples is correct.

Our team ranks in the middle of the pack, whiffing on the final question: Which resolution did Congress pass in 1964 as a result of North Vietnamese aggression?

Honda is stumped: "I'm gonna hate myself."

The answer: The Gulf of Tonkin.

Womp, womp.

If it's any consolation, the defeat can't touch his Blackhawks status. See that mini-trophy on his right hand? It's a 2015 Blackhawks Stanley Cup championship ring.

Honda even won over his dad, though it took awhile. Some 20 years after his initial comment, he told Gene: "I'm glad you found something you can be creative with."

Gene replied: "Dad, don't do that while I'm driving."

He says now: "There was a pool of liquid at my feet."

And he laughs loud enough to register on the Richter scale.

‘He has perfected the craft’

The man who famously bellowed, "FRRRRRRRANK THOMAS!" and "ROBIN VEN-TURA!" is preparing for the May 13 Indians-Sox game.

Baseball Reference and The Name Engine provide some help with names, as do the teams that make pronunciation guides. Indians right fielder Jordan Luplow, for example, pronounces it "LOOP-low."

Short of that, Honda will simply ask the player what he prefers. During spring training, Sox outfielder Eloy Jimenez said he has no preference.

But Honda does.

"It's AH-loy Him-EN-ez," he says. "We have radio people calling him EE-loy."

Honda is readying for outfield prospect Luis Robert. Most pronounce his last name as if it comes before De Niro. Honda says it should sound like "ROH-burr."

He remembers when the Sox traded for Guillen before the 1985 season. The rookie shortstop told Honda and Bob Costas that his name is pronounced with hard G and J sounds: GEE-jen.

"A few weeks later PR said, 'We're calling him Guillen, like Manny Sanguillen.' I said, 'OK.' "

Gene Honda works in his White Sox booth during a game against the Indians on May 14, 2019, at Guaranteed Rate Field. (Erin Hooley/Chicago Tribune)

(Side note: Guillen once ribbed Albert Belle, asking why he no longer went by "Joey." Belle replied that Guillen should be introduced as "Oswaldo." Word got to Honda. So one time you went to the park, you might have heard: "Batting ninth, Oswaldo Guillen.")

Honda's toughest gig was calling the 1988 Olympic boxing trials at the UIC Pavilion — 600-some pugilists from more than 100 countries.

A Sox game might not be as challenging, especially for a man who has done thousands of them. But Honda sometimes has to tweak or omit promotional copy on the fly without stumbling. In some ways, Honda is most appreciated when he's not there because of a scheduling conflict. (A Hawks playoff game trumps all, followed by an Illini football game because there are so few.)

"He has a great voice, but there's so much more to it," says Chris Ackels, an in-game Sox host/emcee. "He has perfected the craft, the cadence. It's timing, knowing the fans, knowing the game. It's one, informing, and two, creating a fun environment."

It starts with getting every name right, from those selected to throw the ceremonial first pitch to the players to the military "Heroes of the Game."

"There's nothing more offensive to anyone in any situation than mispronouncing their name," Honda says. "It's one shot — and you have to get it right."

At 6:40 p.m., the stadium announcements begin. At 7:08, Honda bellows: "Sox fans, ON YOUR FEET for your 2019 Chicago White Sox!"

After fireworks go off, Honda announces Indians leadoff man Francisco Lindor and then walks around Broadcast Booth 1, shaking hands with the four others involved in game presentation and video production.

"Have a good game," he says. "Welcome to the party."

Lindor clobbers the third pitch down the right-field line, a blast of 435 feet into the new Goose Island space.

"Wow," Honda says off mic. "That almost hit the goose. Is there a prize for that? Goose almost went on the endangered species list."

Honda is perched on an $87 seat cushion and uses binoculars to peer into the bullpen. He can take a bathroom break only during a pitching change and a smoke break only during a rain delay.

He began his pack-a-day habit, he says, "when I was studying in summer school the same day I started at the radio station. I was trying to stay up late and the coffee wasn't working."

Have the smokes contributed to his velvety voice?

"Well, that and the Scotch," he replies.

White Sox public address announcer Gene Honda signs off — and says it's time for a smoke — at the end of the Sox’s 5-2 win against the Indians at Guaranteed Rate Field on May 13, 2019. (Teddy Greenstein/Chicago Tribune)

The game ends in a tidy 2 hours, 28 minutes, giving Honda bonus time to ponder his upcoming schedule. Outside the ballpark he lights a cigarette with a black Sox Zippo. He'll be back in the booth in about 12 hours.

Does Honda love his job?

"Very much so," he says. "So many jobs are the same thing every day. This one is not. Every game in a homestand, something happens and you say: What was that? Everyone is looking at each other, waiting for an obscure ruling."

The Sox are out of town July 16, but Honda doesn't plan to sit still.