by Jerry Remy
The Red Sox traded a pretty good reliever/spot starter in Don Aase. I’m always asked why the Angels traded me. I was only 25 and was in the prime of my career. What seemed to happen was they loaded up in 1977. They signed Bobby Grich, Joe Rudi, and Don Baylor, three big names. They had moved Bobby to shortstop, but he was hurt a lot in ’77. They were able to move Bobby back to second after I was traded.
So that’s how the Red Sox thing started. But to get a call from Carlton Fisk? It was like, Jesus. I’m really here. This is unbelievable. And that’s just after watching them in the ’75 World Series. My goodness.
As excited as I was, it was also tough to leave the Angels because that was really my home. They’re the guys who gave me a chance. They’re the guys who groomed me. They’re the guys who almost released me. They’re the guys who took me to the big leagues, and I had all my friends there. We all came up together in the minor leagues. That part was tough, but the easy part was forgetting about that because I was going to Boston. Had I gone to San Diego, it would have been a whole different story. I would not have been happy. Even though I lived out there I was never into the lifestyle the way my wife was. We lived in Mission Viejo and we were 15 minutes from Laguna Beach. She loves the beach and she was there all the time. I was an East Coast guy and I was trying so hard to fit in. I always felt like I had to prove myself every day. For me it was totally about baseball. We never even spent an off-season out there. We’d always come back home. The one year we were going to spend time out there is the year we were traded. We had just bought the condo and we were going to go back after Christmas and spend January and February there, and then go to spring training.
We started our spring training workouts in Holtville and then when we started games we would go to Palm Springs, then fly to Arizona and play a week in Arizona. Palm Springs was so beautiful that nobody even wanted to leave there to go to Anaheim. They’d rather play the season in Palm Springs. It was gorgeous and the weather was great. What also was neat about the Angels was the owner, Gene Autry. He was a great owner. He took care of the players. He loved baseball. He was there almost every game. The only thing about Gene was that he liked his cocktails. And he had Pat Buttram, his sidekick. They would bring him down after a game and he’d be toasted, and they’d be holding him by his arms. He’d have his cowboy boots on and he’d be walking through the clubhouse. I think the only player he really knew was Nolan Ryan. And for some of us he had to look up at the name on the locker and say, “Hi, Jerry. How are you doing?” But he was a good guy. And he was a good fan. He was there a lot.
Mr. Autry had a special day for us every year when he’d take us out to a golf course and ranch that he owned, and we had a family day. We had a wonderful time and he was so generous as an owner.
People always asked me whether he had a lot of celebrities at the games and the answer was no. Even though Mr. Autry was in that business, all of the actors visited up the road with the Dodgers. By the way, we despised the Dodgers. They looked at us as a Triple-A franchise. All the celebs were watching the Dodgers, who were very good at that time. They had the celebrity manager in Tommy Lasorda. We always felt like second-class citizens. They’d fill that place and we’d have 7,000 or 8,000 people at our games, unless Nolan Ryan was pitching or the Red Sox, Yankees, or Tigers came to town.
I speak a lot about my Red Sox teammates, but the Angels teammate I respected most was Ryan. He was the classiest act I’ve ever been around. When you were a kid back in those days coming to the big leagues, you were treated like shit by a lot of the veteran players. Not him. He was a standup guy, one of the greatest guys I’ve ever known in the game. He kind of took me under his wing a little bit. I knew I had a veteran superstar player who backed me and who liked me. I found throughout my career that the guys who treated you like shit were guys who were insecure about their jobs. You don’t see that in today’s game as much. Hardly at all, really. Nolan was top shelf. I mean, to this day, we still get a Christmas card from him. His wife, Ruth, is also terrific.
The other extraordinary pitcher on those Angels teams was Frank Tanana. Back then he could really bring it. He wasn’t the finesse pitcher that people remember him as toward the end of his career, after he hurt his arm. Back then Frank was a little young and immature and some people wanted to paint him as another Bo Belinsky, a guy about town, but he was really good. He threw hard, he had a great curve ball. I mean, you threw Ryan out there one day and Tanana the next day, there weren’t many hits. Then he hurt his arm and he became a totally different pitcher. He continued to pitch but not like the young Frank Tanana that I saw.
He was awesome. One game sticks out in my mind. We were playing the Oakland A’s, who had a great team. They loaded the bases and he struck out three guys in a row. I can’t remember exactly who they were, but they were right in the middle of the lineup and he punched them out to get out of the inning. It’d be interesting to see what kind of career he would have had had he not hurt his arm.
In any case, my time in California had come to an end. That chapter in my life was over. I was coming home.
2. 1978
In Boston we know the story all too well. We had a nine-game lead over the Yankees on August 13 and we couldn’t hold it. We were forced into a one-game playoff, and we lost it. It was the most disappointing year of my career because we had a great team. But I’ll never accept this narrative that we choked. We didn’t choke. We were up against a great Yankees team. We fought back to finish strong, but we lost a one-game playoff in the 163rd game of the year.
It was also the most significant year of my career because I’d been traded to my hometown team from the Angels at the winter meetings in 1977. I was not only coming home, I was joining a team with future Hall of Famers like Yaz, Pudge, Jimmy, and Eck, plus a guy who should be in the Hall of Fame, Luis Tiant, and another who could have been a Hall of Famer had he stayed in Boston, Fred Lynn. We also had Dwight Evans, who won eight Gold Gloves and was another guy who should have been considered more seriously for the Hall.
The Red Sox brought me in because they needed a leadoff hitter and a guy who could steal bases at the top of the order. They needed speed. And I had that. That off-season, they also brought in Mike Torrez, who had pitched for the Yankees and wound up starting the playoff game against his old team. We bolstered our bullpen with Dick Drago. In spring training, we made a blockbuster deal that in my opinion got us over the top. We acquired Dennis Eckersley from the Indians and Eck won 20 games for us. On paper we had the best team in baseball. We won 99 games, same as the Yankees, unfortunately.
We knew the Yankees had a great team. We knew how much we hated them. That was ingrained in me as soon as I got to the Red Sox. This was real hatred. They were the enemy. They were the bad guys and we were the good guys. You’ll never see this scenario play out again in sports. Nowadays everybody is friendly. Oh, there’s competition on the field, but everybody knows the guys on the other team. They may share an agent or have played together in the minors. Back then there were definite lines drawn and I think it was much more fun that way because you had a chip on your shoulder every time you played.
Our Opening Day lineup was kickass. I led off, with Rick Burleson, the most intense player on the team, batting second and playing shortstop. We had Rice hitting third and Yaz cleanup. We had Fisk batting fifth, Lynn sixth, George Scott seventh, Evans eighth, and Butch Hobson ninth. Try to navigate that lineup! Most of the time the other team couldn’t. If we hadn’t suffered so many injuries the second half of the year, I wonder how many games we would have won. The 2018 team won 108 games. I wonder if we could have matched that or surpassed it. That’s how good we were. We also had a very good rotation with Luis Tiant, Torrez, Eckersley, and Bill Lee. We had a great bullpen with Bob Stanley, one of the most underrated pitchers in Red Sox history. He went 15–2 that year with 10 saves. We had Bill “Soup” Campbell and Tom Burgmeier, a tough lefty. Drago played a big role.<
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We got out to a 51–21 start and to everyone we looked unstoppable. By July 19 we had a nine-game lead over Milwaukee, 12½ games over the Orioles, and 14 over the Yanks. We had won 34 out of our first 40 games at Fenway.
In New York the Yankees were going through their usual soap opera with George Steinbrenner. At one point he suspended Reggie Jackson because Reggie tried to bunt the runners along rather than swing away. There were two strikes and he whiffed for strike three and Billy Martin went into a rage. Steinbrenner called it “on-field disobedience” in justifying the suspension. Steinbrenner fired Martin after they fell 14 games behind us and he hired Bob Lemon, who was a mellow guy, and the Yankees responded by winning 30 of their next 43 games. Our lead over them had gone from 14 to four.
It was a weird time. We knew the lead had slipped away, but even with our injuries, we felt we had the better team and we would prevail. But then, I must admit, the Yankees just punched us in the nose in a series at Fenway that became known as the “Boston Massacre” in early September.
The scores were 15–3, 13–2, 7–0, and 7–4. We were outscored 42–9. We committed 12 errors. We sucked. We deserved every bit of criticism that came our way.
Our manager, Don Zimmer, decided he was going to give rookie Bobby Sprowl a start over Bill Lee. Zin really disliked Lee, but Lee was the obvious choice because he was pitching really well in long relief. Zim didn’t see it the way 99 percent of Red Sox Nation saw it. Sprowl had pitched one major league game. He had allowed three runs over seven innings in his only start. He seemed like a tough kid who could handle the moment. At least Zim thought so.
Unfortunately, Sprowl gave up three runs in the first inning. Not a great start for our team. Zim yanked him before he could get through the first and brought in Bob Stanley, our jack of all trades. “Steamer” had been a great pitcher for us. He’s one of the greatest Red Sox relievers of all time. He threw that heavy sinker, got ground balls. But on this day, he got hit around by a relentless Yankees lineup, allowing 10 hits over three innings. We got three runs off Ed Figueroa over six innings, but we knew the Yankees had Goose Gossage waiting in the bullpen.
We lost a couple of more games in New York a few days later and now all of a sudden, we were 3½ games behind the Yankees. We were stunned. It felt like we were getting pummeled in a heavyweight fight and we were staggering. We did win the last game of that Yankees series and started to feel like we could recover. We won 11 out of our last 13 and we forced a tie with the Yankees. We won the coin flip to gain the home-field advantage for the game. At least we beat them on that.
I remember being at home the night before. We’re packing our suitcases, because whoever wins that game goes on to Kansas City. We were totally expecting to win. The game itself was a great game. It was one of the best games in history. It was a clean game. It was well played by both teams. Well-pitched, clutch hitting, great defense.
I had never been so nervous in my life playing a game—or starting a game, I should say—than I was in that one. We felt confident in Mike Torrez. We wished Eckersley was available, but he wasn’t.
The good thing was that we were home. The bad thing was we were going up against Ron Guidry, who was the best pitcher in baseball in 1978. He was 25–3. His “Louisiana Lightning” nickname was fitting. The guy was untouchable all season. He struck out 248 batters. I still remember feeling confident we could win the game. We had to use Luis Tiant to win that 162nd game so we entered the game with Torrez, who had a very good year for us. We thought Torrez had big-time incentive to beat his old team.
And for most of this game, I was right. Yaz belted a solo homer and that made us feel more comfortable. Jimmy knocked in a second run. We had a 2–0 lead over Guidry who wasn’t himself, throwing more sliders than fastballs in the first six innings. Both Guidry and Torrez were pitching on just three days’ rest. They were both running on fumes. In the seventh, Chris Chambliss and Roy White reached on singles, with Bucky Dent coming up. Dent hit a high fly ball to left. It would have been an out in virtually every other major league stadium. But at Fenway, it found a way to clear the Green Monster. We were stunned. Shocked. Choose an adjective. It was 3–2, Yankees.
And then, well, Guidry was pulled with one out in the seventh and Goose Gossage came in. Gossage was obviously one of the best closers in the game. In the eighth we scored two runs on RBI singles by Yaz and Lynn. I had doubled, one of my two hits in the game.
Bucky Dent’s home run to beat us in the one-game playoff against the Yankees in 1978. (AP Images)
It was a 5–4 game heading into the ninth. Burleson, who led off in the game because of the lefty Guidry pitching, walked, and I then singled. It wasn’t just any single. I hit a line drive toward Lou Piniella in right field. Piniella never saw it. Even our third-base coach Eddie Yost had trouble judging it. He was frantically waving Burleson around to score, but Rick had no idea if Piniella was going to catch it or keep it in front of him or whether it would roll to the wall. As it was, Piniella kept it in front of him. “I went to where I thought it would land,” Piniella told the media after the game. “I saw it when it hit and reacted.” Burleson stayed at second base. If he had made it to third he would have scored on Rice’s fly ball. Instead he was on third with two outs.
It was one of those topspin line drives and I don’t think Piniella would have caught it anyway. I don’t think he would have taken a chance at coming in and having that ball get by him and have a run score from first base. But then, I didn’t realize until I was about halfway down the line that he had lost the ball in the sun. Then, he just reaches out with his glove to his left, and the ball pops right into his glove. He didn’t even know it. If the ball got by him, Burleson would have scored and I’d be at third base.
I’d have had a statue out at Fenway if that ball had dropped in and got by Piniella because there was an outside chance I could have had an inside-the-park home run, and we would have won.
And then Yaz came up with two on and two outs. Gossage vs. Yaz. What a way to end it. It was fastball pitcher vs. fastball hitter. Gossage had some amazing things to say after the game.
“I wasn’t going to mess around with breaking junk and get beaten by anything but my best,” said Gossage. “Yastrzemski’s the greatest player I’ve ever played against. I just wound up and threw it as hard as I could. I couldn’t tell you where.”
Yaz thought the 1-0 pitch was going to tail to the outside, but it came in. He tried to hold up but he swung through and the ball popped up high into foul territory off third base. Yaz knew he missed it. Graig Nettles secured the ball. It was over.
I’ll never forget that after Nettles caught the ball, as I was heading back toward the Red Sox dugout, how completely silent the crowd was except for the Yankees fans there. But everyone was stunned. I could see faces that were just in disbelief that this game was over, and that we had lost. The worst feeling in the world was driving home that night with this suitcase that you had packed to go to Kansas City, and having to watch the Yankees play the Royals the following day.
It was the first time I’d ever seen Yaz cry. He took that loss so hard. He knew he had a chance to win the game and he couldn’t do it. He was heartbroken. We were so close. It was just a devastating loss. We had everything set up for a dramatic walkoff win. Instead we walked off the losers. And what has always bothered me is that team never received its just due.
It was a pretty eerie feeling in the clubhouse after the game. We were called bums after that. It was like we were chokers, we were this, we were that. I couldn’t believe it, because we won 99 games, and went to a playoff game, and lost by one run, and we’re chokers because we gave up the big lead. I’m going, my god, if that team’s not good enough to be called a good team, what is?
The Names and Faces of ’78
When I got traded to Boston I got a call from Fisk, who had grown up in Vermont and was living in New Hampshire. He welc
omed me and that was quite a thrill for me, because here’s another local kid. Of course, we all knew all about his 1975 heroics, and the waving of the ball fair in Game 6 of the World Series.
You couldn’t help obsessing over that ’78 season. It was the tale of two seasons, really. The first half belonged to the Red Sox, and the second half belonged to the Yankees. When you evened it all out, it came down to a dead tie. Playing on that team in the first half of the season, we had the feeling we just couldn’t be beat. Nobody could beat us at Fenway Park. It was that kind of an offense that we knew we’d always strike back, no matter what the score was. We just had total confidence we were going to win those games. We built up an incredible lead by the All-Star break, which fell apart in the second half for a lot of reasons.
Number one, the Yankees played as well in the second half as we had in the first half. We didn’t play very good baseball, and we had a bunch of injuries. Not to make excuses, but the fact is we had Fisk playing with a broken rib, and Hobson had chips moving in his elbow every time he threw a ball. Burleson went out for a while with an eye problem. We had our issues. I went down on August 25 with a chipped bone in my left wrist after Angels outfielder Rick Miller slid into me stealing second in the first inning. Dwight Evans got dizzy when he ran as a result of an August 28 beaning and hit .161 (9-for-56) in September with one home run and three RBIs.
When all was said and done, I felt all year that the Yankees and the Red Sox were the two best teams in baseball, and I think all of us, probably on both teams, felt that way. We thought one of us was going win the World Series. That’s exactly what happened and the Yankees went on to beat the Dodgers.
Burleson, our shortstop, was one of the most intense guys I ever played with in my life. We kind of hit it off because our personalities were very similar. We got together early in spring training and we were hard to separate, because we were trying to learn each other as a second baseman and shortstop, and also as people. We found out we had an awful lot in common. Nobody got pissed off quicker than “Rooster” did. I might have been second in that category, but he brought an intensity around the bag that I had never experienced before in the big leagues. He had a fabulous arm. I hated to play catch with him, because from his first throw, he’d be throwing as hard as he possibly could. He was amazing. He wouldn’t warm up. He’d just start firing. Just playing catch with him, prior to a game, was a challenge, because everything was a bullet. That’s how he played shortstop. Nothing was easy. Everything was balls-out all the time.