Jerry Remy was a beloved, larger-than-life person who captured the hearts of many throughout New England, including my own.
Many calls come to mind during his 30-plus years in the Boston Red Sox booth (“Here comes the pizza!,” “Whups” among several others,) but Remy did so much more than just call games. He tried grasshoppers on air, lost a tooth during a broadcast and even commentated on an umpire’s emphatic strike call. Who could forget him falling down while playing the air guitar?
Remy did it all.
He was a staple in our household. I grew up listening to him and watching him on the television with my grandmother. Remy made baseball incredibly enjoyable. He was a brilliant baseball mind. He was funny. He knew what to say and when to say it. He was a talking point at the dinner table the next day. Whenever I’d call my grandma she’d ask, “Did you hear what Remy said” and go into detail about a story he told on the NESN broadcast.
I learned a lot about baseball and the Red Sox because of Remy, and so many kids grew to love it because of him. His impact on those he reached was immeasurable. I quite literally grew up with Remy and looked forward to turning on the TV for Red Sox games to hear the iconic, “Buenas Noches, amigos!” he would say after letting viewers know they were able to view the game in Spanish.
I first met Remy in 2008 when I shadowed my broadcast professor/mentor for a day at Fenway Park. We had a brief interaction when I was taken into the broadcast booth. I was just 17 years old at the time, an aspiring Boston sports journalist and a nervous wreck knowing I was about to meet someone I admired since I was a kid.
“Hey there, don’t let these guys boss you around,” Remy told me pointing to Don Orsillo, my professor and some of the other production crew who were in the booth. Little did I know 10 years later I would be working under the same roof as Remy.
It always blew my mind to think that Remy had been calling games longer than I had been alive. But it clearly showed just how much he truly loved what he did. It was obvious through his calls of the game, his stories. His passion truly shined through each and every game. If he was having a bad day, you’d never know. You always got 110% from Remy and his absolute best no matter what. His love for his job was admirable, and you could hear it in his voice.
Remy’s work ethic was second-to-none, but as good a worker as he was, he was an even better person. In June 2020 he made a Cameo video for my grandmother for her 92nd birthday and he showcased the same excitement in a one-minute video as a nine-inning ballgame.
There are not enough words to capture the impact he had not just on my life, but also the lives of many others. Red Sox games certainly will not be the same, and the NESN office won’t be the same. It’s been a pleasure, to say the least, to be able to see Remy work and how he’d go about his day.
For as long as I’ve been alive, there never has been Red Sox baseball without Remy.
We let Remy into our homes for several years and he became part of so many families. The iconic and legendary voice I grew up with left a permanent mark on my life, and to say he will be missed is an understatement. So many made him a part of their lives every Red Sox season.
Buenos Noches, amigo.
