Not many guys with 17 career home runs get canonized the way Johnny Pesky did. Then again, not many guys intertwine their very DNA with a single franchise for a half century either. Pesky’s affair with Boston went far deeper than an eccentrically situated foul pole, and though he was certainly not the greatest Red Sox player of all time, he was–and will likely forever be–the most beloved.
The list of men alongside whom Pesky played, managed, announced, coached, and “special assisted” spans just shy of 70 years. Gordon Edes covered the Red Sox for the last 15 of those years, and put it quite eloquently in his ode/obituary:
He was teammates with Ted Williams, managed Yaz and Tony C., sparred with Dick Stuart, shared a microphone with Ned Martin, coached Jim Rice and Fred Lynn, hit fungoes to Nomar, wept tears of joy with Tim Wakefield and Curt Schilling, and with Hall of Famer Bobby Doerr… was an honored guest at the 100th anniversary of Fenway, escorted to the center of the diamond by Jason Varitek and David Ortiz.
What that list doesn’t include, what may have been his most cherished connection, are the millions of fans whom he delighted, year after year, in steadily declining physical form but unwavering spirit, as he first jogged, then walked, shuffled, labored, and finally rolled onto the field. Every single year, many times over. Say what you will about the All-Stars and Hall of Famers, the heroes and the legends with whom Pesky rubbed elbows for all those decades, he was a baseball fan–a Red Sox fan–above all else. And what he loved more than all the glamour, more than all the adoration, was giving joy to the Fenway Faithful.
Johnny Pesky loved Boston in a way that no other player has loved his team’s city. It’s true he played long before the age of the millionaire ballplayer, but Pesky’s lifelong residence in the same house he used to host Teddy Ballgame for dinner is something of a modern miracle. When most men of his age and stature begin to head south for the Christmas months, Pesky braved the New England winter. Where most men of fame sought fortune, Pesky sought fans to chat up and mingle with, and he was always happy to sign a few autographs. He reveled in his special assistant-ship, and remained a steadfast presence where others of the same title are often found only at public appearances.
As a player, he was never more than very good. Of modest physical tools (17 career HRS, 53/49 SB/CS ) he was a line drive hitter, happily setting the table for Ted Williams. His lifetime BA/OBP of .307/.394 is sparkling, but belies his .386 career SLG%. He led the American League in hits in three consecutive seasons. That those consecutive seasons were 1942, 1946, and 1947 underscores the type of man he was. After an impressive rookie campaign, grinding out his hits methodically, as a workman would, he ground out three years as an Ensign in the Pacific. He said later “…if I didn’t have baseball to come back to, I’d have probably stayed in the Navy because it was clean and I kind of liked the atmosphere.”
Johnny Pesky emanated that clean, good atmosphere wherever he went, and he will be sorely missed. But through a lifetime of commitment, devotion, and love–and an eccentrically situated foul pole–he can rest assured he’ll be remembered as a hero, and that his legend will never die.
-Ari Glantz
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