LOS ANGELES — It is more than three hours before the first pitch of the Red Sox-Dodgers game in Chavez Ravine on Friday and Baseball’s Voice of God is already at work in the booth, meticulously penning the lineups into his scorebook.

Vin Scully is lefthanded.

No detail is insignificant when we speak of Baseball’s Voice of God.

The numbers are staggering. Scully is 88 years old. He has broadcast approximately 9,000 Dodger games, which is almost half of the games ever played by a franchise that joined the National League in 1890. In 1950, Scully worked a spring training game that was managed by Connie Mack, who was born during the Civil War. Scully has called 20 no-hitters, 12 All-Star Games, and three perfect games. He called Don Larsen’s perfect game, Hank Aaron’s 715th homer, Kirk Gibson’s iconic walkoff vs. Dennis Eckersley, and Mookie Wilson’s little dribble that went through Bill Buckner’s wickets (’’Behind the bag . . . and the Mets win it!’’).

In buttery tones, armed with a gift of storytelling, Scully has narrated the history of the Dodgers for 67 seasons. In Brooklyn and Los Angeles. His work in Hollywood has been famously described as “the soundtrack of summer.’’

“He’s probably the single most beloved sports figure in Los Angeles,’’ said Dodgers president/CEO Stan Kasten. “And I know who that includes.’’

It includes Koufax and Magic. Kareem and Kobe. West, Wilt, Wooden, and Walton. Fernando and Elgin. Marcus Allen. The Great Gretzky.

Baseball’s Voice of God is not wholly comfortable with this farewell tour, but he’s never too busy to help out the working stiffs who worship him from their perch in the press box.

So what’s this been like?

“I haven’t thought about it much,’’ Scully starts. “People ask me, ‘What are you gonna do?’ They forget. When someone retires at the age of 65, you say, ‘What are you gonna do?’ When you retire at 89, it’s not a question of ‘What are you gonna do?’ You’re gonna try to live. You’ve spent so many yesterdays, you don’t know how many tomorrows are left, so that’s more important than everything else. I’ll be thrilled to get through it healthy and that’ll be that.’’

His last game will be in San Francisco against the Giants. Another detail. Another story.

“It’s an odd little thing. When I was 8½ years old, I was walking home from grammar school in Manhattan and I went by a Chinese laundry and in the window was a linescore of a World Series game. The Yankees beat the Giants, 18-4, in that game. My first reaction when I looked at it was, ‘Oh, those poor Giants.’ My grammar school was 20 blocks from the Polo Grounds and I was a member of the Police Athletic League and the CYO so I could go to games free Monday through Friday. My school ended at 2:30 and the games started at 3:15. So I literally grew up in the Polo Grounds and I was a big New York Giants fan. Now here’s the thing. That World Series game was October 2, 1936. This year, we finish in San Francisco, against the Giants, October 2, 2016. Exactly 80 years to the day. That’s pretty good.’’

Is there one moment that stands out?

“There have been a lot. I think as far as the borough of Brooklyn, when they won their first and it turned out their only world championship [1955], that might have been a great moment. But so many individual moments. To me the most important home run was Henry Aaron’s. Sociologically and everything else. The most theatrical home run was Kirk Gibson here. When he wasn’t going to play and he limped out of the clubhouse. I wasn’t on the air, thank God, when Bobby Thomson hit the home run [1951], but that’s the one people remember.’’

Before his broadcasting days (a college football game featuring BU and Maryland at Fenway in 1949 helped launch his career), Scully played center field at Fordham and he remembers a tight ballgame against a Yale team captained by George Bush.

“We both went 0 for 3. I think I had four or five putouts.’’

His days as a ballplayer came up during one of his rare interactions with Ted Williams when Scully was 41 years old in 1969.

“Ted was managing the Senators and we had a spring training game in Pompano [Fla.]. Ron Fairly said he had an appointment to meet with Ted Williams. He said, ‘Come with me.’ So the two of us met Ted in the dugout and Ted asked Ron, ‘What’s your problem?’ Fairly said, ‘The changeup is killing me,’ and Ted asked, ‘Why are you swinging at it?’

“So Ron left and I was sitting there talking to Ted about his lineup and he said to me, ‘What was your problem?’ I don’t know what he assumed I was, or did, but I told him I could hit the ball from the middle of the plate, away, but I couldn’t hit the ball from the middle of the plate in. I got jammed all the time.

“He said, ‘Get a bat.’ I did. Then he said, ‘Let me see you swing at an inside pitch.’ Imagine the great Ted Williams saying that to me? So I did. He said, ‘No wonder you got jammed. What I want you to do is as soon as you recognize where the pitch is, I want you to get your hips out of the way. Before your hands move, your hips have got to start so that you can get in there. After two or three practice swings, I got it and Ted said, ‘That’s it.’

“People were starting to gather in the ballpark, so I slammed my bat into the dirt and Ted said, ‘What’s the matter?’ and I said, ‘Where were you when I needed you?’ So there. I had a hitting lesson from Ted Williams.’’

The interview is over but Baseball’s Voice of God is still working.

“What about the Red Sox this year?’’ he asks. “Can they do it? They sure score a lot of runs. And I see Hanley Ramirez is back in the lineup.

“What I’m gonna miss is the people,’’ he adds. “The lady on the elevator. The people when you enter the press box [it’s Vin Scully Press Box and you get there by driving up Vin Scully Way after exiting The 110]. The people in this booth, day after day after day.’’

Kasten says, “When people ask if this is his last year, I say ‘We’ll see.’ It is starting to sink in, but the farther things go, the more we’re going to talk about next year. He’s still going to have some role. He’s still going to be involved. Because Vin is as much a part of anything here as anyone or anything could be.’’

Baseball’s Voice of God . . . still delivering the soundtrack of summer . . . for 67 years.

Dan Shaughnessy can be reached at dshaughnessy@globe.com