My Red Sox consciousness dates back
only until about 1984, so the Curt
Gowdy era was way before my time. But I’ve heard enough of his soothing,
laconic voice over the years to understand what his passing means to legions of
denizens of Red Sox Nation.
For 15 years, years during which
games were more often heard over the radio rather than watched on television, Gowdy’s
voice on WHDH was synonymous with the Boston Red Sox, a vital lifeline describing
on-field happenings to those who couldn’t be there to see them.
He called Ted Williams’s last at-bat.
And Carl Yastrzemski’s first.
And it wasn’t his fault that his
tenure happened to coincide with the team’s ‘50s/’60s
doldrums.
He called ugly losses with the same
measured passion for the game as he did the exhilarating wins. He was a professional.
''You always go by the voice, and
when they got that good voice, you could listen to them all day." says
Johnny Pesky.
The Voice of the Red Sox. The Voice of Baseball. "The Voice of an Artist."
Here’s his famous call of Hank Aaron's big blast, y’know, the one that crowned him all-time home run leader.
Simple, to the point. He let the moment speak for itself instead of prattling
on with inane and uninformed commentary. (Take note, Tim McCarver.)
And he can be heard at the end of
this radio jingle for the newly-reborn Narragansett Beer.
RIP, Curt. Crack a cold one up there
in that great broadcast booth in the sky.