Jerry Remy meant so much to so many. And while I can't speak for everyone, I can speak for myself.
For me, Jerry was one of my baseball building blocks. Maybe I didn't fully realize that until sitting down to write this. But now he is gone - passing away at the young age of 68 years old - reflection becomes a priority. That's how it works.
Sometimes the impact takes some effort to uncover. When I heard the news, it was easy. I suspect I'm not alone. There are a lot of people who live in this world of baseball in New England who have their memories, stories and anecdotes, all of which will be easily retrieved in the coming days, hours and minutes.
This is the Jerry Remy I knew. From my perspective, that's plenty.
Let's start here: I wore No. 2 in Little League because of Jerry Remy.
It seems like a little thing, but anybody who grew up playing the game realizes the choice are always part of the roots for your baseball-playing existence. For me, it was because of what Remy represented, the little guy who couldn't hit a home run in a million years but tortured opponents with something called a drag bunt.
(Eight-year-old Robbie Bradford awkwardly attempting the bunting art Remy perfected most likely led to more parental eye-rolling than I realized at the time.)
And when it came time for the elementary school occasions to dress up like a Red Sox player, it was always Remy, right down to the trademark slight-gap-in-the-middle mustache. And, that batting stance. It was a staple when the rubber met the road in any key Wiffleball at-bat.
As the years went by, my view of Remy wasn't all that different than anyone else digesting Red Sox games on NESN. The accent, the experience and the matter-of-face sense of humor. It scratched where we, the consumer of all things Red Sox, itched.
That would have been fine. And for most mourning the loss of Jerry, it is and then some.
But I, fortunately, was presented with the guy behind the guy. First, it was simply seeing Jerry sitting in the middle of the Red Sox clubhouse, surrounded by a table of notes and players, greeting the media members as they kicked off their daily access.
There was Remy's acceptance into the team's world, and then there was everybody else in the media - including broadcasters. He got it. They knew that. We knew that.
As the years passed, the interactions with Jerry grew. The greetings would oftentimes include a smile that you came to know wasn't handed out lightly. "What's up Rob?!" Writing the words, it seems like such an innocuous greeting. But for whatever reason, that's not how it felt. This wasn't a Little League Robbie vibe, but simply something that stood out in this world of less-than-genuine media-member interactions.
Those continued throughout the years. Again, that would have been enough.
Fortunately, I have more. Specifically, three plane rides.
The first came in 2008 when I was working for the Boston Herald and the media was put on the top floor of a double-decker plane headed for Tokyo. They handed out pajamas. Guess who was the one who put them on and proceeded to showcase for all the group to enjoy? Remy.
Those watching all of those broadcasts came to understand that Jerry liked to have a good time when a good time presented itself. That's one of the things we loved about him. Cameras or no, this was Remy. That snapshot taken somewhere over the Arctic Circle encapsulated this.
The second one was where Little Robbie had to pinch himself. Jerry had a good friend who would use his private jet to fly Remy on couple of road trips each season. On one trip back from Kansas City, the radio and television broadcasters were invited to come along. As luck would have it, I was playing radio broadcaster that weekend.
They could have put me in the luggage compartment, and I would have been perfectly content living in that world of luxury. But Jerry allowed me to be part of the crew - along with Dave O'Brien and Don Orsillo. And top it all off, I would ultimately have a private audience with the co-host of the journey, peppering him with all the questions about the late-1970's/early-1980's Red Sox teams that I didn't quite feel comfortable asking in any other setting.
Two hours on a private jet talking about the teams I grew up with the player I grew on ... Put it this way: I was not obsessing over time of game this time around.
The third was on a team flight, when I was once again playing broadcaster. Matt Barnes had come to the back of the plane and we had started discussing how good that 2011 Major League Baseball Draft was. For whatever reason, we turned to Jerry to talk about his perspective. This pave the way for an hour so of Remy's journey. How different it was. The kind of obstacles that couldn't be part of a publicly-consumed broadcast.
Jerry wouldn't try to take control of a conversation, but that's where it usually landed. Do you know why? Because what he said was actually interesting. There were never words for the sake of words. I was fortunate that was put on display during that plane ride.
Jerry will be remembered by so many for so many reasons. I am no exception.
Simply put, Jerry Remy was the best leadoff hitter a baseball fan could have had. For that, I will be forever thankful.