A LEGACY THAT DEFIES THE BOOTH
BOSTON, MA—While players come and go with the seasons, some figures become the very fabric of a franchise. For the Boston Red Sox, that figure was Jerry Remy. Though he first made his mark as a gritty, local-born second baseman, it was his 33-year career as the “Voice of Red Sox Nation” that cemented his place in baseball immortality.
The “sad news” of Remy stepping away for health and family first shook the community in August 2021, when he announced he would undergo further treatment for lung cancer—a battle he had fought with superhuman resilience for 13 years. On October 30, 2021, the RemDawg passed away at age 68, but as fans reflect in 2025, his presence at Fenway Park remains as loud as ever.
THE “REMDAWG” CHRONICLES
Jerry Remy wasn’t just a broadcaster; he was a companion to generations of New Englanders. His chemistry with partners—most notably Don Orsillo and later Dave O’Brien—turned routine mid-summer games into must-watch television.
- The “Pizza” Incident: No fan can forget the 2007 “Here Comes the Pizza” moment, a laughing fit that remains the gold standard for broadcast levity.
- The President of Red Sox Nation: In 2007, fans officially elected him “President” of the fan base, a title he wore with more pride than his 1978 All-Star selection.
- The 13-Year Battle: Remy was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2008. He went through several remissions and recurrences, always returning to the booth with a “Buenas Noches, Amigos” that signaled to fans that everything was going to be okay.
BY THE NUMBERS: A DUAL CAREER
| Era | Role | Impact |
| 1978–1984 | Second Baseman | 1978 All-Star; .275 career AVG; 208 Stolen Bases. |
| 1988–2021 | Color Commentator | Over 3,900 games called for NESN. |
| 2006 | Hall of Fame | Inducted into the Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame. |
| 2022 | The Final Tribute | The Fenway broadcast booth was officially dedicated in his name. |
“BUENAS NOCHES, AMIGOS”
The final public image of Jerry Remy is one that still moves fans to tears: October 5, 2021. Just weeks before his passing, a frail but smiling Remy rode onto the Fenway grass in a golf cart to throw out the ceremonial first pitch for the AL Wild Card game against the Yankees.
The roar from the crowd wasn’t for a win or a home run; it was a “thank you” to a man who had taught them that baseball, like life, is best handled with a sense of humor and an unbreakable spirit.
“He used all of his bullets,” Dave O’Brien said after Remy’s passing. “He didn’t allow anything to stand between the game and him.”
