Scott Williams

Lore & Background

In Minnesota, baseball is not a spectator sport; it is a communal rite. And for the millions who tune in on the radio rather than the tube, Scott Williams is the man who makes the rite feel immediate. His style—part storyteller, part friend leaning over the back of your couch—sets him apart from the more formal broadcast tradition. He talks to the listener the way a neighbor talks to you at a barbecue, except the neighbor happens to be describing a curveball that just kissed the outside corner for a strike.

His tenure has spanned eras of the Twins: the rebuilding years, the playoff runs, the quiet stretches where the team fights for respectability. Through all of it, his voice has been constant. Fans who grew up hearing the Twins called on the radio in the 2000s and 2010s carry that sound in their memory the way they carry the smell of a fresh-cut outfield grass in late August. Williams did not just call the games; he gave a generation of Twins fans a consistent, warm, slightly irreverent thread to pull on when they needed to feel connected to the team.

At Target Field, where the architecture is designed to funnel crowd noise toward the diamond, the radio broadcast takes on a different texture. Williams' calls, layered over the thump of the crowd and the occasional pop of a ball into the upper deck, create a soundscape that is uniquely Minnesota baseball. He is, in the way that matters to fans, part of the stadium itself.

In Their Own Story

It is a Saturday in late September, and the Twins are down by one in the bottom of the ninth. The Target Field crowd is on its feet, a low roar building like a storm front rolling over the Mississippi. In the broadcast booth, Scott Williams leans into the mic, his voice dropping to that half-whisper he reserves for the moments when the whole world narrows to a single pitch. The pitcher winds up. The crowd swallows its breath. The ball leaves the hand. A crack—wood meeting leather, sharp as a gunshot. And then Williams is there, not shouting, just letting the syllables spill out with a grin you can hear: "And that one is… GONE… into the… left-field seats, folks… the Twins have it…" The booth erupts. Somewhere in a kitchen in St. Paul, a kid in a Twins cap is already screaming before the words finish. The radio makes the impossible feel like it happened in your living room. That is the job. That has always been the job.

Reader's Guide

You pull into the Target Field lot on a warm June evening, the sky still holding that last amber glow above the Minnesota skyline. You don't have a seat in the stands—maybe you're watching from a friend's deck across the river, or maybe you're in the car, engine ticking, radio on. You dial in KFXM 92.5 The Fan, and there he is: Scott Williams, mid-pitch, his voice warm and unhurried, the way a good friend narrates a story over a cold beer.

You hear the crowd before you see the action. The murmur of ten thousand people settling, the clink of cups, the muffled thud of a bat against a ball in the warm-up cage. Then the first pitch, and Williams' voice snaps into focus, crisp and close, as if he's sitting in the next booth over. You can hear the leather of the glove, the scuff of cleats on the infield dirt, the distant pop of a fly ball caught in the upper deck.

When the Twins score, the sound changes. It becomes a wall. A physical, chest-pressing roar that you feel in your sternum even through the radio speaker. And Williams—God bless him—lets the crowd breathe for a beat, lets the noise wash over you, before he comes back with that easy, knowing laugh: "Well, folks, I don't know what just happened, but I sure saw it." You laugh. You always laugh. That's the thing about listening to the Twins on the radio. You are not watching a game. You are living one, one voice at a time, in the company of everyone else in the Twin Cities who tuned in at the same moment. The 'Twin Cities' call, the stretch-song hum, the way the whole broadcast breathes with the season—that is the culture. And Williams is the heartbeat of it.

Did You Know?

• Scott Williams has served as the lead play-by-play voice for the Minnesota Twins for well over a decade, making him one of the longest-tenured broadcasters in the franchise's modern radio era.
• His broadcasts air on KFXM 92.5 The Fan, the flagship Twins radio station in the Twin Cities market, reaching listeners who may never set foot in Target Field.
• In Minnesota, radio remains a primary way fans follow the Twins, meaning Williams' voice is the primary 'view' of the game for a huge slice of the fanbase—making his delivery style as important as any on-field performanc
• Target Field's architecture, with its open concourses and proximity of the stands to the field, creates a unique acoustic environment that Williams' broadcasts are designed to complement, layering the crowd's live sound