Voices 8/8/03...Red Sox Radio

The Professor · 08-08-2003, 01:25 AM

Red Sox Radio Nation...

"Game tied 6-6, Darcy pitching. Fisk takes high and inside, ball one. Freddie Lynn on deck. There have been numerous heroics tonight on both sides. The one-0 delivery to Fisk. He swings. Long drive, left field! If it stays fair, it's gone! Home run! The Red Sox win! The Series is tied three games apiece..."

- Ned Martin, October 22, 1975 -- Game Six of the World Series

It is an invisible mark or a hidden badge worn proudly, though it is heavy with sadness, though its legacy is a tragic one.

To share in its brotherhood is to share special triumphs and -- more often -- heart-rending catastrophes.

It is cringing over a mad dash from first to home; moaning over a ball - there - just between aching legs of a tired first baseman. It is a ball nestling into the net; of recalling championship dreams denied. It is weeping over the sale of one player, a transaction that defined two teams and a century of baseball mythology.

It is also treasuring the memories of the greatest hitter ever, of a cap that was never tipped and a will that was never broken. It is a homerun in the final at bat. It is a Triple Crown and an 'Impossible Dream', a sensational rookie and waving the ball fair as it sails through the New England night.

The brethren of Red Sox Nation share in a rich history of legendary baseball moments. They also share in a rich history of great voices.

Great men, forever narrating the exploits of great players and the greater events that fill the line of Red Sox history. They make an impressive list, but one that is no less tragic than the stories its members told.

It begins with Fred Hoey in the 1930s, a troubled man - an alcoholic - whose life was Red Sox baseball, and whose voice soared through New England over the Colonial Radio network. After broadcasting a World Series game while inebriated -- reports were Hoey had "a bad cold" -- his days were numbered. In 1939 Hoey was fired. Ten years later he died of "accidental asphyxiation" at the age of 64.

The man who followed Hoey was the similarly tragic Jim Britt. Britt called games for both the Red Sox and Boston Braves, his voice in its prime, more ubiquitous even than Hoey's. Like Hoey, Britt was fond of the drink. A sensitive man with an incomparable mastery of language, Britt was a perfectionist. He once blew calls on three straight fly balls during a windy game in Boston. He thought the balls were home runs....but the wind kept blowing them back in, causing Britt to grow ever more furious. "I don't care what anyone says, that was a homerun!" he cried.

Britt covered several World Series in the late '40s and early '50s, but was ultimately dropped from Red Sox radio when the Braves games were moved onto the competing Yankee Network. He didn't follow that team when it moved to Milwaukee, spent time on early Cleveland television and then bounced from city to city, struggling with his drinking problem until he passed away in 1980.

Britts replacement was the Wyoming native known, affectionately, as 'The Cowboy' -- Curt Gowdy.

Gowdy had honed his craft as Mel Allen's sidekick in New York, but was cast in a very different mold from the Yankees mouthpiece. Gowdy was professional, simple and straight forward. Like the team he followed, Gowdy was cursed. He came to the booth on the tail of several near-miss campaigns in the late 1940s but ended up narrating terrible teams throughout the next decade, though he did get to call -- in his simple way -- Ted Williams's final homerun. He called his final game for the struggling Red Sox in 1966, the year before the team improbably won the 1967 American League pennant.

However, unlike his predecessors, Gowdy went on to post-Red Sox successes, defining network baseball in the late 1960s and 1970s, working every World Series and All-Star Game through the 1975 season.

During those magical years between 1967 -- the year of Yazstremski's Triple Crown and the 'Impossible Dream' -- through the last out of the 1975 campaign, the Red Sox featured some of the best radio work in the league.

Gowdy's immediate replacement was Ken Coleman who had been born within a few miles of Fenway Park and who cut his teeth as the voice of Cleveland football in the early 1960s. It was Coleman who narrated the exciting happenings of 1967.

When Coleman switched over to Red Sox television in the early '70s, the radio booth was handed to Ned Martin who, through the last years of the decade, teamed with 'The Possum' Jim Woods, forming baseball's most respected broadcast tandem.

Martin whose famous exclamation, "Mercy!", became a trademark of Red Sox radio, lent his deep voice and classicist's soul to the game. He retired from the booth in the early 1990s, and passed away in 2002.

Both Martin and Coleman carried on into the 1980s and early 1990s, joined in their fraternity by Joe Castiglione. Today, Castiglione and partner Jerry Trupiano hold forth over WEEI.

They are the disciples of a grand tradition, the latest in a line of great storytellers and Boston bards. That badge -- with all its history, tears, and rare triumphs -- is theirs to wear, as it is for all of Red Sox nation.

"When sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions," said Ned Martin once, quoting Shakespeare.

How true.

It takes a special fan to live with that mark, that badge. Thank goodness for the storytellers who share that weight and -- occasionally -- ease its burden.

Kezzek · 08-08-2003, 09:18 AM

Sweet post, Prof. Keep 'em coming!

jened · 08-08-2003, 10:10 AM

nice, but will you be offering yankees 101 this semester?

LivnLegend · 08-08-2003, 11:08 AM

Again, fantastic effort! Thank you!

Specs · 08-08-2003, 05:23 PM

Great article, man, but dude, Joe and Jerry suck.

08-08-2003, 01:25 AM	#1
The Professor Hall Of Famer Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: East of East Posts: 3,020	Voices 8/8/03...Red Sox Radio Red Sox Radio Nation... "Game tied 6-6, Darcy pitching. Fisk takes high and inside, ball one. Freddie Lynn on deck. There have been numerous heroics tonight on both sides. The one-0 delivery to Fisk. He swings. Long drive, left field! If it stays fair, it's gone! Home run! The Red Sox win! The Series is tied three games apiece..." - Ned Martin, October 22, 1975 -- Game Six of the World Series It is an invisible mark or a hidden badge worn proudly, though it is heavy with sadness, though its legacy is a tragic one. To share in its brotherhood is to share special triumphs and -- more often -- heart-rending catastrophes. It is cringing over a mad dash from first to home; moaning over a ball - there - just between aching legs of a tired first baseman. It is a ball nestling into the net; of recalling championship dreams denied. It is weeping over the sale of one player, a transaction that defined two teams and a century of baseball mythology. It is also treasuring the memories of the greatest hitter ever, of a cap that was never tipped and a will that was never broken. It is a homerun in the final at bat. It is a Triple Crown and an 'Impossible Dream', a sensational rookie and waving the ball fair as it sails through the New England night. The brethren of Red Sox Nation share in a rich history of legendary baseball moments. They also share in a rich history of great voices. Great men, forever narrating the exploits of great players and the greater events that fill the line of Red Sox history. They make an impressive list, but one that is no less tragic than the stories its members told. It begins with Fred Hoey in the 1930s, a troubled man - an alcoholic - whose life was Red Sox baseball, and whose voice soared through New England over the Colonial Radio network. After broadcasting a World Series game while inebriated -- reports were Hoey had "a bad cold" -- his days were numbered. In 1939 Hoey was fired. Ten years later he died of "accidental asphyxiation" at the age of 64. The man who followed Hoey was the similarly tragic Jim Britt. Britt called games for both the Red Sox and Boston Braves, his voice in its prime, more ubiquitous even than Hoey's. Like Hoey, Britt was fond of the drink. A sensitive man with an incomparable mastery of language, Britt was a perfectionist. He once blew calls on three straight fly balls during a windy game in Boston. He thought the balls were home runs....but the wind kept blowing them back in, causing Britt to grow ever more furious. "I don't care what anyone says, that was a homerun!" he cried. Britt covered several World Series in the late '40s and early '50s, but was ultimately dropped from Red Sox radio when the Braves games were moved onto the competing Yankee Network. He didn't follow that team when it moved to Milwaukee, spent time on early Cleveland television and then bounced from city to city, struggling with his drinking problem until he passed away in 1980. Britts replacement was the Wyoming native known, affectionately, as 'The Cowboy' -- Curt Gowdy. Gowdy had honed his craft as Mel Allen's sidekick in New York, but was cast in a very different mold from the Yankees mouthpiece. Gowdy was professional, simple and straight forward. Like the team he followed, Gowdy was cursed. He came to the booth on the tail of several near-miss campaigns in the late 1940s but ended up narrating terrible teams throughout the next decade, though he did get to call -- in his simple way -- Ted Williams's final homerun. He called his final game for the struggling Red Sox in 1966, the year before the team improbably won the 1967 American League pennant. However, unlike his predecessors, Gowdy went on to post-Red Sox successes, defining network baseball in the late 1960s and 1970s, working every World Series and All-Star Game through the 1975 season. During those magical years between 1967 -- the year of Yazstremski's Triple Crown and the 'Impossible Dream' -- through the last out of the 1975 campaign, the Red Sox featured some of the best radio work in the league. Gowdy's immediate replacement was Ken Coleman who had been born within a few miles of Fenway Park and who cut his teeth as the voice of Cleveland football in the early 1960s. It was Coleman who narrated the exciting happenings of 1967. When Coleman switched over to Red Sox television in the early '70s, the radio booth was handed to Ned Martin who, through the last years of the decade, teamed with 'The Possum' Jim Woods, forming baseball's most respected broadcast tandem. Martin whose famous exclamation, "Mercy!", became a trademark of Red Sox radio, lent his deep voice and classicist's soul to the game. He retired from the booth in the early 1990s, and passed away in 2002. Both Martin and Coleman carried on into the 1980s and early 1990s, joined in their fraternity by Joe Castiglione. Today, Castiglione and partner Jerry Trupiano hold forth over WEEI. They are the disciples of a grand tradition, the latest in a line of great storytellers and Boston bards. That badge -- with all its history, tears, and rare triumphs -- is theirs to wear, as it is for all of Red Sox nation. "When sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions," said Ned Martin once, quoting Shakespeare. How true. It takes a special fan to live with that mark, that badge. Thank goodness for the storytellers who share that weight and -- occasionally -- ease its burden. __________________ History isn't really about the past - settling old scores. It's about defining the present and who we are."

08-08-2003, 09:18 AM	#2
Kezzek All Star Reserve Join Date: Dec 2001 Location: Keyboard - frantically typing in subtle insults to raise my self-esteem Posts: 973	Sweet post, Prof. Keep 'em coming! __________________ - Kez, P.E.

08-08-2003, 10:10 AM	#3
jened Minors (Triple A) Join Date: Jul 2003 Location: upstate NY (saratoga county) Posts: 255	nice, but will you be offering yankees 101 this semester? __________________ cooper_gd's OTWE Results OTWE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION: KING JENED III

08-08-2003, 11:08 AM	#4
LivnLegend Hall Of Famer Join Date: Dec 2001 Location: 100% pure adrenaline! Posts: 5,624	Again, fantastic effort! Thank you! __________________ Excess ain't rebellion. You're drinking what they're selling.