The Jamie Most Interview
By:
Michael D. McClellan
|
Monday, February 21st, 2005
Editor's Note: Jamie Most, son of legendary Boston Celtics radio voice Johnny Most, and author Mike Carey have collaborated to create "Voice of the Celtics", a book and CD combination that pays tribute to arguably the most important broadcaster in NBA history. What follows is a Celtic Nation interview with Most and Carey.
It was a marriage and a love affair all rolled into one, this thing between Johnny Most and the Boston Celtics, a relationship so rich with passion that the two have become inextricably linked, radio broadcaster and storied franchise, a pairing unmatched in the history of professional sports. Most was there in the early days when Walter Brown’s Celtics were struggling to remain economically viable, calling games from high above courtside in the Boston Garden, while a young coach named Red Auerbach barked commands to future hall-of-fame players named Sharman, Cousy and “Easy” Ed Macauley. These were heady days, pre-dynasty, and Most was arguably the man most responsible for spreading the Celtics’ hoop gospel. He called the games from his heart. He loved the team, and it shone through in his unique broadcasting style. He made people take an interest. He saw the games the way George W would have us see the War on Terror, with no shades of gray and a very clear delineation between hero and villain, and in the process we found ourselves sharing this passion with Johnny Most, who we came to recognize as the Boston Celtics’ singular voice and the team’s Number One Fan.
The basketball landscape in the 1950s was vastly different from the corporate giant that exists today. Back then, teams and owners did whatever they could to survive. From playing promotional games at midnight – the Milkman’s Matinee in the Boston Garden is perhaps the most famous example – to barnstorming throughout New England, playing twenty games in as many nights, the Celtics were at the forefront of this grassroots marketing campaign. Brown, a hockey man, was convinced that professional basketball would succeed on a grand scale. He also knew that there would be tough times, as indeed there were: Brown would mortgage his home just to keep the franchise afloat, and there were times when players were asked to wait on paychecks because there simply wasn’t enough money to pay the bills. Most, who began calling games in 1953, saw all of this unfold. He knew that the average New Englander viewed the NBA in general – and the Celtics in particular – as second rate entertainment. If they wanted to watch basketball, they would take in a Holy Cross game. If they wanted a real sport, there was always the Red Sox or the Bruins. He also knew that the team needed a voice, especially if the Celtics were to gain a foothold in the consciousness of the average Bostonian.
Johnny Most decided very early on to be that voice. A self-proclaimed ‘homer’, Most was unapologetic in the way he called the games. If you were a Boston Celtic, you could do no wrong; if you were the opposition, then you were Public Enemy Number One. Under Most’s watchful eye, the Celtics never lost a game – they simply ran out of time. It was a style borne of that era, during a time when a true family atmosphere permeated all NBA franchises, and Most was as much a part of the Boston Celtics as the leprechaun himself. He rode the bus with the team when they went on those barnstorming tours, and he roomed with players on the road during the regular season. And fans began to take notice; Bob Cousy became “Rapid Robert” because of Most, and phrases such as “fiddles and diddles” and “stops and pops” worked their way into the lexicon of anyone who tuned into Most’s radio broadcasts.
By the time Bill Russell arrived midway through the 1956-57 season, Most had established a loyal base of listeners and the Celtics had turned the corner in terms of turning a profit. Tommy Heinsohn was the other impact rookie on that team, and through the years he would become one of Most’s closest friends. With all of the pieces coming together, Most continued calling the games with his unique passion. So vivid was his play-calling that TV did little to encroach on his popularity; even when the games were televised, an overwhelming number of fans chose to turn down the volume on their TVs and turn on the radio broadcast instead, as Most turned every home game into an epic struggle on the famed Boston Garden parquet. Russell, Cousy, Sharman and Heinsohn were transformed from basketball players to warriors, noble in cause, honorable in spirit, and by season’s end the first of the team’s sixteen championship banners was safely in hand.
