Lorraine Fine is a proud member of RemDawg Nation.
The 78-year-old Brighton resident was one of hundreds of Red Sox faithful who made their way to Waltham on Thursday for a public memorial honoring the life of Jerry Remy, the former Red Sox player and longtime broadcaster who died October 30 at 68 after a long battle with lung cancer. Some wore their Red Sox ballcaps and team gear, Fine opted for a shirt that read “One Nation Under Dawg.” But everyone came with a favorite Remy memory or story.
“My favorite, I think, is when he lost a tooth and Don Orsillo picked up plyers and tried to pretend to put it back in, it was absolutely hysterical,” she said, recalling one of the many times Remy turned a regular baseball broadcast into must-see TV. “I mean, he and Orsillo did so many wonderful bits. They were just real people. It was wonderful to watch them. There’s no way they can ever replace him.”
Jerry Remy once lost a tooth in the middle of a game. Hilarity ensued. 🤣
— MLB Vault (@MLBVault) November 1, 2021
RIP, RemDawg ❤️ pic.twitter.com/GJsWc2Coo3
Thursday’s public viewing at the Mary Catherine Chapel of the Brasco & Sons Memorial Funeral Home gave fans a chance to say goodbye to the man who helped shape Red Sox history, both on the diamond and inside the booth.
Voravut Ratanakommon worked security for the Sox for about a decade. He said Remy was the glue for the whole organization and recalled just how generous he was.
During spring training one year, Ratanakommon said Remy gave him his phone number in case he ever needed tickets for a game.
“You know, I still have it in my phone, after 14 phones later,” he said. “He said, ‘You ever need anything, give me a call. And leave a message if I can’t pick up.’ That’s just part of his generosity, it’s part of his spirit, you know.”
For as big of a personality as he was, Ratanakommon said Remy knew how privileged he was to have his role on the team.
“I got to see him almost every day, every game day when we were at home, and again, [he was] always smiling, always chipper and always prepared,” he said. “And I think, again, he really, really was aware of his position and how he can affect the people around him and the fans.”
Inside, the chapel had been converted into a museum of Remy’s career, with photos and memorabilia from his playing days and broadcast career displayed for attendees. Two TVs played highlights of his career on a loop, ushers handed out replicas of Remy’s baseball card and fans wrote messages to Remy on big notecards placed just outside the chapel doors.
Robert Pellegrine and Carol Wilson are neighbors in Waltham, but Pellegrine describes their relationship as that of a mother and son, always talking about Red Sox games together.
“I’ve got the second-floor porch, she’s got the first floor-porch. Whenever anything’s going on, she always yells up, ‘Bobby, you up there?’” he said with a chuckle.
Wilson remembers sitting on her dad’s knee watching Red Sox games as a kid, and Pellegrine recalled watching games on a TV his grandfather used so often he eventually had to paint new dials on. They’re about as hardcore of Red Sox fans as it gets. And the way they talked about Remy, it sounded like he was family.
“He was just a regular guy, you know? Any sports [players] in Boston that were all-stars like Larry Bird, Bobby Orr, Jim Rice, Steve Grogan, all regular guys,” Pellegrine said. “And I think that’s what people are gonna look back at, you know?”
Wilson said Red Sox fans will miss Remy’s constant presence in the broadcast booth.
“Especially when we go to the games and he’s not up there,” she said. “Yeah, that’s gonna be hard.”
But, inside the chapel, it felt less like a wake and more like a celebration of a man who made complete strangers feel at home whenever he called a game. At the head of chapel, Remy’s casket, flanked by photos of Fenway, a plaque listing his accomplishments, a Red Sox jersey and a #2 from the Green Monster, was accompanied by a home plate, a guide for Remy to round the bases one last time.
