Joe Castiglione's broadcast partners learn one rule very quickly: Do not talk over the pitch.
You can hear it in the rhythm of the Hall of Famer's broadcast. Whether it's WEEI partner Will Flemming or frequent analyst Lou Merloni, they'll pause for half a beat so Castiglione can describe the action -- "misses with a ball outside" -- before continuing their thought.
When you're the eyes and ears of the fans, every pitch is sacred, every moment potentially historic. Start skipping them, and who knows what you'll miss?
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For 42 years, the exacting Castiglione didn't miss a thing. It was perfect, then, that when he joined the NESN booth on Sunday just moments after announcing his retirement, he couldn't begin his statement of thanks and appreciation until Kutter Crawford delivered to Yankees first baseman Oswaldo Cabrera.
"That one fouled back," Castiglione said. "And after 42 seasons and I think somewhere about 6,500 games, I've decided to retire from the regular broadcast schedule..."
"After 42 seasons with the Red Sox and more than 6,500 games, I have decided it's time to retire from a regular broadcast schedule."
— NESN (@NESN) September 15, 2024
Joe Castiglione joined the NESN booth to talk his retirement ❤ pic.twitter.com/SyPc6pFNN9
This is the end of an era, a phrase we've been using a lot recently. First, loquacious NESN Bruins voice Jack Edwards hung it up for health reasons, and then our own local institution, Mike Gorman, walked away with one final championship in his farewell season after four decades on the Celtics.
For the nostalgically inclined, Castiglione's departure might hit hardest of all, especially if you're old enough to have fallen asleep to him and his original partner, Ken Coleman, as a 10-year-old with a transistor radio pressed to your ear in 1983, as I was. The Red Sox once provided the soundtrack of summer, and there's still something enchanting about listening to the game in the car, while mowing the lawn, or at the beach.
No sports better translates to the medium of radio, and the most gifted play-by-play announcers must simultaneously convey the action in vivid detail, modulate their calls with the proper emotion, and fill the languorous time between pitches with history, analysis, and conversation.
In Castiglione's hands, it sounds like the easiest job in the world, which of course it is not.
Summers won't sound the same without him, especially because, even at age 77, he hasn't lost his fastball. But no one can do the job forever, especially considering the punishing travel, and Castiglione has decided to spend more time with his family after spending the last 42 summers with ours.
Castiglione lives and dies with the Red Sox. He might not be theatrical about it, like old White Sox announcer Ken Harrelson or recently retired Yankees voice John Sterling, but it's there. You can hear the disappointment when the Red Sox fail to convert with the bases loaded -- "Swing and a popup!" he might moan -- but watching it in person is 1,000 times better. The morose tone is accompanied by both arms thrown up in disgust, a hastily scribbled F-4 in his scorecard finished with a slam of the pen.
His recall is legendary. Mention a random game that's meaningful to you because you were, say, there with a couple of high school buddies in 1991 when Detroit's John Shelby charged Roger Clemens, and Castiglione immediately remembers that John Marzano dropped Shelby with a tackle from behind, and that Shelby ended his career a year later in Triple A with the Red Sox at Pawtucket.
There isn't a player he doesn't remember or an anecdote he can't summon. If you ever meet him, seriously, mention Jackie Gutiérrez or Bob Zupcic or Juan Pena and he won't disappoint.
After a lifetime in the booth, Castiglione has his favorites. He loves Rich Hill like a son and glowed with pride when the left-hander briefly rejoined the Red Sox this month. He's fiercely protective of Roger Clemens, who has periodically joined the booth solely because of their relationship. He never misses an opportunity to cite former manager "Joseph Michael Morgan."
He's a big fan of former reliever/chemistry major John Trautwein. The affection he feels for Pedro Martinez is obvious. His all-time favorite visiting player might be Torii Hunter, which helps explain why his first words after David Ortiz's legendary grand slam over a celebrating Steve the Bullpen Cop in the 2013 ALCS were, "Torii Hunter is hurt!" Joe takes care of his guys.
I had the privilege of calling a few spring training games with Castiglione from 2015 to 2018, as well as making regular fifth-inning visits to the booth during the regular season, and whatever jaded husk of a cynic I may be, donning a headset alongside him was a genuine honor and thrill.
Before my first game, he offered words of encouragement, and one non-negotiable piece of advice.
"This will be fun," he said. "Just don't talk over the pitch."
Wouldn't dream of it. From Yaz to Rice to the Rocket, from Pedro to Papi to the Killer B's, Castiglione called them all. We're going to miss him.
