John Sterling was the perfect voice for the Yankees — and their fans

When you watch a game to know how the score updates, you don’t need to hear John Sterling updating the score. New York Yankees Are doing. “They’re losing,” I’d tell my son.

“How do you know this?” He will ask.

“Just listen to his voice,” I would reply.

Sterling’s voice was shaped by his despair, his frustration, his joy, his joy. Red Sox fans often complained that they felt too close to each Yankees victory — These Yankees won! – And I would tell them, as someone who knew Sterling while covering the team, that no, he was honest about how he felt about the Yankees’ success – and he won a lot in his time as a broadcaster. He had as many championship rings as Derek Jeter.

“He loved his life,” his longtime booth partner Michael Kay wrote in a text after the world learned of Sterling’s death Monday morning.

Has he ever? Sterling would arrive in the press box a few hours before each game, usually wearing a light-colored suit in the summer and a scarf in the spring or autumn, carrying a briefcase, and he loved to gossip – about teams, about players, about writers. He wanted to know what you heard and what you knew, and he designed each question as if it was open-ended, even when you knew it wasn’t. “Why does George Steinbrenner get so much criticism?”. he asked in his deep baritone voice. “I can’t understand it.”

He could laugh at himself. Years ago, we had a “Baseball Tonight” podcast contest in which fans were invited to give their best Sterling imitation, and he graded each participant’s work, appreciating the enthusiasm – like a true showman, understanding that if his work is being discussed, it’s a good thing.

What listeners sometimes missed, if they weren’t paying attention, was that while Sterling was openly supportive of the Yankees, he was also sharply critical of the sledgehammers when the team played poorly. He voiced several times what Steinbrenner might be thinking about the signing of a struggling pitcher or underperforming free agent. The Yankees’ booing by fans was noted and explained, not ignored.

He used to appreciate players from other teams, praising their great play or effort. He appreciated the art he described every day, whether good or bad. Sterling once said, “You can’t have it any other way.”

Like no broadcaster in the booth for decades – and he called games for a variety of sports, including Boston Celtics legend Larry Bird’s record-setting performance against the Atlanta Hawks – he made calls that will live forever. I thought his finest moment was what is remembered as the Rec Camp game – a rain-delayed, extra-innings game between the two teams. New York Mets and atlanta braves on July 4, 1985, which continued until dawn. Both teams used nearly their entire rosters, forcing Atlanta to insert weak-hitting pitcher Rick Camp as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the 18th inning.

You don’t need to know the score. You only need to hear Sterling’s voice to understand the absurdity of it all and the impossibility of what happened. Working with Ernie Johnson Sr., he said, “The Mets are bringing their outfielders in.” “Ernie, if he hits a home run to tie this game,” Sterling said laughing, “it will definitely be certified as the nuttiest in the history of baseball.”

“And there’s an 0-2 pitch… and he hits it to deep left! Heap goes back! It’s… gone! Holy cow! Oh my God! I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Rick Camp! Rick Camp!”

“Remember what I just said?! This confirms this game as the weirdest, wildest, most incredible game in history!”

Sterling’s incredulity was pitch perfect, in a voice that often conveyed how fans felt.