NEW YORK – Naturally, you could never bring yourself to delete a voicemail because of… that voice.
And that big, familiar baritone – the casual sound of summer, the narrator of so many signature Yankees moments from their last great baseball era – would now and then leave a call.
Like a mini broadcast, just for one person.
It was 30 seconds of John Sterling talking about restaurant reservations.
It was John Sterling about a score from a Broadway musical, or what the Yankees really should be doing instead of that, then circling back to the who-what-when details of dinner.
In that moment, you were the only listener.
And damned if there wasn’t something so special about that, and that you now realize nine saved voicemails (of the 12 currently on your phone) are Sterling calls?
This morning brought the calls and texts that John Sterling was gone. He was already, upon his play-by-play retirement, among the last in a baseball broadcasting class we’ll never see again.
Identified by his team.
By his unapologetic, unique on-air style.
By a passionate appreciation for the legends he followed and admired, like Mel Allen.
By a voice that he trained, beginning at a very early age, to be heard over the radio.
A voice that was designed to speak conversationally and directly to you, as if you were connected by telephone.
When he left the Yankees’ radio booth after the 2024 World Series, you knew you’d never hear anything like Sterling again.
But you selfishly wanted to still hear him broadcast, maybe emcee an event or be part of an Old-Timer’s Day, or anything to keep him near a mic.
He did a brief weekly New York radio sports show for a time, calling it more of a talk show than a call-in show because he liked giving his opinions and having his sportswriter friends as guests.
That voice remained strong, and you’d hear him say that – in those last few on-air seasons – calling the games wasn’t the issue, it was the grind of getting from city to city.
But, hey, there would be fewer interruptions as he read his newspapers and novels. There were all those hockey and basketball playoff games to enjoy, and he watched them all.
And of course, more time to schedule dinners in Manhattan.
Classic Italian or classic steakhouse. Waiters in white coats, maître-de in tuxedo, piano in the front played by someone who knew the standards. Oban on the rocks, at the bar, before moving into the dining room with a few pals from the press box.
That was John Sterling’s kind of night on the town, and yes, he’d be glad to take that selfie with you, dear Yankee fan.
The heart operation happened in late January. By early April, the strength was back in John Sterling’s voice, and so was the optimism.
Once he got in walking shape, we’d all get back to the old routine.
You hoped, anyway.
This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: How John Sterling made Yankees fans feel like the only listener