Ned Martin
From SoSH
Edwin Roland "Ned" Martin Jr. (born August 9, 1923 in Wayne, Pennsylvania; died July 23, 2002 in Raleigh, North Carolina) was a sports play-by-play announcer for 36 years, the last 32 as radio and TV voice of the Red Sox. Known for his trademark "Mercy!" exclamation on both highlights and lowlights, his memorable calls included the pennant-clinching win by the 1967 Impossible Dream Red Sox, Carlton Fisk's game-winning home run off the foul pole in Game 6 of the 1975 World Series, Carl Yastrzemski's 400th home run and 3000th base hit in 1979, and Roger Clemens' first 20-strikeout game on April 29, 1986. He was inducted into the Red Sox Hall of Fame in 2000.
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Career Overview
Ned Martin grew up about 18 miles outside Philadelphia, where his father took him to Athletics games at Shibe Park (aka Connie Mack Stadium), but he grew up a Phillies fan. Following high school, Ned entered Duke University but his studies were interrupted by military service. With the advent of World War II, he joined the U.S. Marine Corps and fought at Iwo Jima, one of thousands of young soldiers who stormed the island's beaches in the face of Japanese artillery and machine gun fire. "I'm not one of the guys you see raising the flag," Martin would later say in humble deference to the famed statuesque pose. Over his life, he remained reluctant to discuss the horrors he experienced or the bravery he exhibited. Longtime Boston sports journalist Clark Booth recalled of Martin, "It was always that way with the guys who saw the real bitter action. He never bragged or needed praise, and hated shtick and self-promotion."
After the war he returned to college, graduating from Duke University in 1948 with a degree in English. Unsure of his calling, he worked various jobs near his hometown including a stint working on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in 1950. He soon decided to pursue writing and took jobs penning advertising copy in New York and working in circulation for a Washington publication. In 1950, he worked for Shortly after taking a copywriting job for a Baltimore radio station in 1954, staff took notice of Martin's voice and put him on the air.
His sports broadcasting career began with a play-by-play gig in Athens, Georgia in 1955. The following year he moved to Charleston, West Virginia, where he called minor league baseball games for the AAA Senators through the 1960 season. Throughout his tenure in Charleston, Ned sent tapes to big league clubs in hopes of getting a shot.
Finally, in 1961, he joined Curt Gowdy and Art Gleeson in the Red Sox booth, calling the action on both WHDH-AM radio and WHDH-TV. Gowdy chose Martin for the job personally, having invited him to work on-air during a game in Baltimore in September 1960. Martin only had to call two innings to convince Gowdy, who wanted a professional broadcaster instead of the ex-athletes being proffered by others. "We didn't call it an audition, but it was," Gowdy later acknowledged.
Ned Martin soon found himself inside Fenway Park for the first time. "The only time I'd seen Fenway was film of the 1948 playoff," Ned recounted. Upon his arrival at the main entrance, he saw "what looked from the outside like a brickyard, not at all like a park."
The crew members would rotate in three-inning shifts between the radio and television booths. Martin would work the first three innings alone on the radio, switch to TV for the middle three frames, then return to the radio booth for innings seven through nine. Gowdy would work the opposite route, while Gleeson remained in the TV booth throughout the game. Martin continued broadcasting the Sox over both mediums through 1971. Over that stretch his other partners included Mel Parnell, Ken Coleman and Johnny Pesky.
During his tenure in Boston, Martin took on other broadcasting work. He called pro football games for the AFL's New England Patriots in 1965, and worked college football coverage for Dartmouth (7 years), Harvard (6 years), and Yale (2 years).
In 1972, after WBZ-TV took over the Red Sox television rights, the Sox broadcast team was split up. Pesky and Coleman were assigned to call games on WBZ, while Martin worked exclusively in the radio booth. That season he teamed with John MacLean until June, when MacLean fell ill and was replaced by Dave Martin (no relation). The two Martins continued calling the action over the airwaves through the 1973 season.
In 1974, at Martin's recommendation, longtime baseball broadcaster Jim Woods was hired, replacing Dave Martin in the radio booth. Over their five seasons together, Martin and Woods became one of most admired and respected baseball broadcasting duos in the history of the sport. In February 1980, Boston Globe columnist Peter Gammons reported that Baseball Magazine had named Ned Martin and Jim Woods "the best broadcasting team in all the game for the '70s, which is no surprise."
Woods and his earthy baritone meshed seamlessly with Martin and his laid back tenor. The pair traded innings handling play-by-play, and exchanged pleasant but brief banter that failed to distract from the game action. Both Woods and Martin painted vivid imagery over the airwaves without being verbose, especially between pitches, but both knew when to let their coverage ebb with a few seconds of silence. On batted balls, they described plays accurately and succinctly, never stumbling over their words or misleading listeners by insinuating home runs on routine flies. Their work during he 1975 season was captured on the Super Sox '75 album narrated by Martin and released after the World Series. The pair remained a fixture in Boston through the 1978 campaign, including the famed one-game playoff between the Red Sox and Yankees.
For the 1975 World Series, Martin worked in the booths for NBC TV and radio, joining a rotating team of Gowdy, Red Sox TV voice Dick Stockton, Cincinnati Reds broadcaster Marty Brennaman, and NBC mainstays Tony Kubek and Joe Garagiola. Gowdy, Kubek and Martin worked mainly as a trio, and Ned affectionately referred to them respectively as "Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod". Martin, Brennaman and Stockton were also the last team broadcasters to call the World Series on television, a point Ned later recalled. "The next year, the new Series TV contract banned local guys. I snuck in under the wire." Instead, Martin was teamed with Ernie Harwell to call the American League playoffs on CBS Radio from 1976 through 1978.
The straightforward and honest approach Martin and Woods took with their work earned them a legion of fans, but not necessarily those in front office and radio station circles. They eschewed being perceived as homers or frontrunners, or as putting lipstick on a pig. This irked owner Tom Yawkey and some station personnel. One station manager voiced displeasure that Martin would raise his voice equally high on home runs hit by the opposition.
In 1976, the flagship station for Red Sox coverage shifted up the dial from WHDH-AM 850 to WMEX-AM 1510. As reported by the Boston Globe's Jack Craig, the Red Sox "broadcast coordinator Gene Kirby was anxious to see Ned Martin fired as a team broadcaster. Trouble between the two had begun a few years earlier on opening day when Kirby objected to Martin's description of muddy conditions at home plate at Fenway Park."
Martin received several disciplinary memos from his bosses, some of which might seem frivolous in retrospect. One criticized him for failing to wear a necktie despite 100-degree heat. Another instructed Coleman to bar Martin from the broadcast booth if he weren't properly attired. Ned reportedly threatened to wear a tuxedo in mock protest. "Given how many clowns he offended, it's a wonder he lasted 30 years," Clark Booth would later write.
Another issue the station brass had with Martin was their allegation that he failed to interact sufficiently with sponsors, something he later acknowledged. "I tried, I tried hard for a while, but I just couldn't do it. I'm not a commercial person. I just don't have that gift of gab," he said.
Prior to the 1978 season, WMEX owner Dick Richmond sold the station to Cincinnati-based Mariner Communications, which changed the call letters to WITS and the broadcast format to talk radio. At season's end, station boss Joe Scallan unceremoniously dropped the ax on Martin. Woods then resigned in protest, and they were replaced by Ken Coleman and Rico Petrocelli. The station's ratings plummeted in the wake of public outrage over the dismissals. As the Boston Globe's Jack Craig reported, Woods "jumped before he could be pushed, as was Ned Martin, from that job."
While Woods moved on to USA Network to cover the USA Game of the Week, Martin moved over to WSBK-TV to become the Red Sox' TV play-by-play announcer, replacing Stockton who had left for the CBS Network. Martin inherited Stockton's partner of four years, color commentator Ken Harrelson. Toward the end of the 1980 season, during an off-day for the Red Sox, Martin was reunited in the booth with Woods for a memorable game on the USA Network. On October 3, 1980, before a crowd of more than 57,000 at Montreal's Olympic Stadium, the visiting Philadelphia Phillies beat the Expos 2-1 to take sole possession of first place in the National League East.
Woods and Martin worked together in the Red Sox booth for the last time toward the end of the 1981 season, with Woods filling in for three games while color commentator Ken "Hawk" Harrelson played in a PGA golf tournament in Sutton, Massachusetts. Following the season, WSBK-TV reportedly considered hiring Woods to rejoin Martin in the booth after Hawk left to take the same position with the Chicago White Sox, but the station eventually chose retired Red Sox catcher Bob Montgomery. Martin and Monty remained a team for six seasons, calling games on WSBK-TV until 1987 and on the New England Sports Network (NESN) from 1985 through 1987.
In 1988, the Red Sox decided to assign separate broadcast teams to each of their TV networks. Montgomery was paired with Sean McDonough on WSBK-TV, while retired second baseman Jerry Remy joined Martin on NESN broadcasts. Martin and Remy worked together through the 1992 season. The day before the final game, Martin was callously informed that his contract would not be renewed, and he bade farewell to listeners over the airwaves.
The Red Sox' decision to part company with Martin ended his 32-year affiliation with the team, and he chose to retire. Nationally, Martin had worked the 1975 World Series on NBC radio and television, and four American League Championship Series on CBS Radio from 1976 through 1979.
The move from radio to TV at age 56 appeared to have disheveled Martin, taking him out of his comfort zone and leading to on-air mistakes that increased in frequency toward the end of his tenure. "There were lapses. It had to do with lack of concentration, I think," he later acknowledged, "but it never happened on big plays."
The Boston Globe's Jack Craig lamented the dip in Martin's work, opining that it embodied the contrast between audio and video. "Similar to other sports announcers bred for so long on radio, Martin never fully adapted to television. There were fewer opportunities to describe the unseen drama in his style that sometimes reached elegance ... 'There's a high drive lofted into the night,' Martin would say softly on radio, a lovely word picture. Dare not express a home run that way on television, drop an appropriate line from literature, or utter a reminiscence or an irony. Radio pleases the ear, television the eyes, and the two are mutually exclusive."
On July 22, 2002, Martin attended a memorial service for Hall of Fame slugger Ted Williams at Fenway Park. He joined Yastrzemski and journalist Peter Gammons on the field to share memories and tributes with the crowd as part of the official ceremony. While back in Boston, Martin also visited with two of his children who drove up from their homes on Cape Cod.
Martin was returning alone to his home in Clarksville, Virginia the following day when he was stricken by a fatal heart attack aboard a parking lot shuttle bus at Raleigh-Durham International Airport in North Carolina. He was 78. Martin's survivors included his wife of 51 years, Barbara; son Edwin Roland "Roley" Martin III, daughters Caroline Michnay and O'Hara Martin, and nine grandchildren.
NESN was airing the nightcap of a July 23 doubleheader at Fenway against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays when news of his death reached the broadcast booth. Don Orsillo, who had been mentored by Martin as a young broadcasting intern, deferred to Jerry Remy, a partner of both, to report it to viewers. "It really hurt. That was one of the toughest times I've ever had in the booth," Remy later said. "I think what made it rougher was that I'd just seen Ned the day before. He'd had a great time at Fenway, seeing a lot of old friends. He'd asked about my wife and kids and kidded about a story about me in the paper that someone had read to him."
Prior to the next day's game, the Red Sox observed a moment of silence in his honor and aired a montage of his most memorable highlight calls on the center field video screen.
Ned Martin has appeared on the ballot for the National Baseball Hall of Fame & Museum's Ford C. Frick Award since 1998, but he has yet to be named one of the 10 finalists in any year.
Ned Martin's Calls
"The pitch is looped toward shortstop. Petrocelli's back. He's got it! The Red Sox win! And there's pandemonium on the field! Listen!" -- Ned Martin on WHDH radio, calling the final out of the final game of the Red Sox' "Impossible Dream" season at Fenway Park on October 1, 1967, with Jim Lonborg pitching for the Red Sox, and batter Rich Rollins of the Minnesota Twins popping up to Rico Petrocelli to end the game.
"The 1-0 delivery to Fisk. He swings...long drive, left field...if it stays fair, it's gone...HOME RUN! The Red Sox win! And the series is tied, three games apiece!" -- Martin on NBC Radio, calling Carlton Fisk's 12th inning game-winning home run at Fenway Park, October 21, 1975, off Pat Darcy of the Cincinnati Reds. (Audio)
"Long drive, right field...way back...near the wall...and there it is! Home run number 400, Carl Yastrzemski! Now...listen and watch!" - Martin on WSBK-TV, calling Yaz's 400th home run at Fenway Park, July 24, 1979, off Mike Morgan of the Oakland Athletics.
"There goes a ground ball...base hit! Number 3000...Yastrzemski's got it! And all hell breaks loose at Fenway Park!" - Martin on WSBK-TV, calling Yastrzemski's 3000th hit at Fenway Park, September 12, 1979, off Jim Beattie of the New York Yankees.
"A new record! Clemens has set a major league record for strikeouts in a game...20!" - Martin on NESN, calling Roger Clemens' record-setting 20th strikeout in one game at Fenway Park, April 29, 1986, against Phil Bradley of the Seattle Mariners.
Quotes
"He was the most literate of all broadcasters. He was a scholar of literature and a great Hemingway expert. He had a way of describing things very succinctly, and never interfered with an event. He was truly a modest individual. People trusted him. He never covered up. He just was very honest and very descriptive." -- Red Sox broadcaster Joe Castiglione, who succeeded Martin in the radio booth.
"Ned was just a wonderful man and broadcaster. I loved the guy. We just enjoyed each other. He had a style all of his own. He was marvelous." -- Red Sox broadcaster Ken Coleman, one of Martin's longtime partners.
"I've been around and I must say the fan support up there is really something. And the people were so wonderful to us. Next to Pittsburgh and [Bob] Prince, my years with Ned were the happiest of my career." -- Jim Woods.
"He could paint a word-picture, and frowned upon television. TV's glitzy, not his kind of crowd." -- Ken Coleman.
"'Mercy...' If that word has no meaning, you haven't had your Sox on the last two seasons or listened to much baseball on radio during the preceding 18 years. It is the trademark of Ned Martin, Boston's longest running baseball broadcaster, who invokes the single word at the instant of great excitement, then lets the crowd roar carry the moment. The formula has rescued Martin from exaggeration, foot-in-mouth and other verbal diseases that afflict announcers when their pulse beats abruptly speed up. -- Jack Craig, longtime Boston Globe sportswriter and author of the regular column SporTView.
"You've got to love these Red Sox. They give you the worst team in 26 years, the first last-place edition in 60 years, and their response is to fire the broadcaster. They're dumping Martin, a Red Sox fixture since 1961. Good move, Sox. Martin was always too full of truth, not enough of a nitwit booster. Maybe down the road you can replace the estimable Martin with some Happy The Clown shill who'll say only great things about the Boston ball club. Ned Martin never was about all of this. He was a fluid voice and a baseball poet. He also was a continuous voice of the Red Sox since the rookie year of Carl Yastrzemski. A man of infinite grace and dignity, he deserved to leave on his own terms, but that isn't going to happen." -- Dan Shaughnessy, in his Boston Globe column October 4, 1992.
"I miss the Ned Martin-Jim Woods broadcast duo more and more with each passing year. I fear we'll never hear its like again." -- Bob Ryan, in his Boston Globe column on March 1, 1983.
"You know what's sad? Sad and scary, actually. What's sad and scary is that the people who ruled over them and signed their paychecks had no idea how good and how special Martin and Woods were. I mean, none. I'm not trying to insult anyone who has come after them by suggesting that there is no possibility we'll ever hear anything like that again. Neither Ned Martin nor Jim Woods would get a job today. Too independent is why." -- Ryan, in his Boston Globe column on March 8, 1995.
"It's impossible to overestimate how much Red Sox fans loved him. When Martin was introduced on the night they inducted him into the Red Sox Hall of Fame, the room exploded in applause and that became a lengthy standing ovation, one of the warmest receptions I can remember." -- Jack Craig, in an interview with his Boston Globe successor Bill Griffith.
"People who traveled with the team in those days tell of postgame gatherings of broadcasters, writers, and the coaching staff during which Martin and Woods would be spellbinding with their baseball tales. Martin and Woods were so perfectly matched that they could use movements - a hand gesture, shrug, raised eyebrow - to communicate with each other while on the air." -- Bill Griffith, in his July 25, 2002 Boston Globe column following Martin's death.
"In the two phases of my baseball life, I was extremely fortunate. Ned Martin, my first partner, was laid-back. He let me make my own mistakes, then would correct me. He'd write down my grammatical errors, then slide the paper over to me, so every time I saw him writing, I'd be thinking, `Uh-oh, what did I say now?' I'm sure some of the things I said just pierced his ears." -- Jerry Remy
"It was Martin and Woods who understood us best of all, who knew that baseball unified us, made us cosmopolitan ... Ballplayers weren't just ballplayers, they were Texans and Michiganders. They had home towns and middle names. Woods localized the game and helped us keep that sense of village connectedness that had been born long ago in front of the radio listening to the familiar voices carrying across the dark fields of the republic recounting the changeless ritual. Ned Martin reminded us that baseball is a game of wit and intelligence. Woods kept alive our sense of wonder. Between them they were perfect. Only Red Barber was their equal. We shall not see their like again." -- Novelist Robert B. Parker in the April 6, 1980 Boston Sunday Globe Magazine.
Trivia
- In September 1964, just before Boston's final road trip and with the Phillies holding a 6-1/2 game lead in the National League, Ned traveled to Pennsylvania for a brief visit with his ailing father who had suffered two heart attacks. During the Red Sox' series in Detroit, Ned learned of his father's death. Returning home for his services, Ned found a letter his dad had written. Ned later recalled, "Baseball had been our bond. When I last saw him, dad predicted the Phillies' collapse [losing 10 straight games] that had now come to pass. He then wrote this letter: 'I don't see how they can win the pennant. They pitch Short and Bunning on short rest and no one else. I'm afraid they're going to crash.'"
- Ned was a Hemingway scholar and a Shakespeare buff, and was known to recite a favorite line from Hamlet whenever the Red Sox seemed destined for trouble: "Oh, Gertrude, when sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions."
- Martin was also a fan of poet Alan Ginsberg and actor John Wayne, and a strong supporter of Richard Nixon.
- In 1966, after Curt Gowdy retired on short notice, Martin was passed over for the number one spot on the Red Sox announcing team, as Ken Coleman was brought in instead for a higher salary. Ned later surmised that his low-key demeanor and distendency to pander or glad-hand, may have worked against him. "I applied by sending a telegram to WHDH," he recalled.
- Following a 1971 game, after traveling secretary Jack Rogers barked to Red Sox staffers urging them to "be on the bus in 40 minutes", Ned muttered the word "bullshit" -- unaware that his radio microphone was still live. He was nearly fired for the faux pas. "It was outrageous to happen back then," Ned recalled years later. "Now it'd be a nursery rhyme."
- Throughout his Red Sox career Martin and his family resided in suburban Wellesley, Massachusetts before retiring to a wooded 15-acre spread in rural Virginia.
